


A Study in Loss

by philaetos



Series: Studies [3]
Category: Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: (fuck you Roman), (the original character is Roman), (why did I create him?), Everyone Needs Therapy, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Original Character(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Right?, but at least he has baz, he is not taking it well, i still don’t know how to tag a story, is that surprising? i don’t think it’s surprising, more of daphne, simon has lost his magic, those boys have issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 47
Words: 152,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philaetos/pseuds/philaetos
Summary: How do you keep going after losing a part of yourself?
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Studies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010952
Comments: 555
Kudos: 156





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz brings Simon back to the manor after he passed out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third part of a series, and it cannot be read independently unless you want to be very confused

**Baz**

It started raining almost right after I picked Simon up and held him against my chest. In the time it took me to run back home as fast as I could with an unconscious Simon Snow in my arms, the rain completely drenched me, my shirt and trousers sticking to my skin, my hair and eyelashes dripping drops of water. I tried protecting him from the rain as best as physically possible, at least his face and stomach, but he’s still soaking wet when I drop him on the couch of the living room, screaming for my parents.

**…**

**Daphne**

I’m humming lullabies to Octavia as I fasten the buttons of her pyjamas when I hear it. A loud, desperate shout that echoes in the whole house like a broken siren. “Father! Mother! Help!”

I wrap my arms around my daughter immediately, holding her close as I rush downstairs. On my way, I see Mordelia running up the stairs with wide eyes, and the twins in the door frame of their room, their eyebrows knitted. And I see Malcolm, once I reach the living room, shock written all over his face.

And I see Baz, soaked to the skin, tears and rain water getting mixed up down his cheeks.

And I see…

I see Simon, almost as pale as Baz, eyes closed and unmoving. 

I hold Octavia a bit tighter as fear takes me over. Please let him be well, as well as he can be looking like this.

“Healing spells,” Malcolm says, breaking the dreadful silence, that was only disturbed by Baz’s heavy breathing. “He needs healing spells. Baz, get out of here. And take your sister,” he adds, glancing at Octavia and me. 

“No fucking way,” Baz answers right away, through gritted tears.

He never snaps at his father like that. When they argue it’s always cold, biting words. Apparent indifference. Irritation, in the worst cases when they really push one another to the edge. Not anger. I don’t think Baz has ever even swore when arguing with Malcolm. 

“Basilton. Out,” Malcolm says in a commanding way as he rolls up his sleeves, glaring at Baz.

“You’re bloody mad if you thing I’m going when he’s like that, you fucking…”

Malcolm grabs him by the shoulders from behind, stopping him in his tracks, and starts pushing him towards me.

“Listen carefully. You’re going to take your sister, and get out of this room.” Malcolm nods at me as he says that, and I understand that I should give Octavia to Baz. His shaking arms become steadier when they close around her. He doesn’t hold her too near not to make her wet. “You’re clearly in a state of shock,” Malcolm continues, his voice firm but with some softness to it still. “Go to your room, dry yourself, put on clean clothes, and then stay with the girls. You’re too troubled to be any help to us, you’ll just slow us down. The more you argue, the longer Simon remains without treatment.”

Simon’s name seems to make something click in Baz’s brain because when Malcolm says it, he eventually complies, starting to walk out, not without casting a worried glance at the motionless form of Simon Snow.

The second after Baz steps out, Malcolm casts a spell on the door to lock it, and then turns at me, his face serious but with clear worry in his eyes. I don’t know if he’s worried for Baz, or Simon, or both, but either way, he’s enough for it to show on his face.

“Presumably,” he starts. “Simon lost his magic. We can’t be sure, but it seems like the most likely option, so we cannot use too many spells on him, it’s not good for magicless people to be exposed to too much magic at once. So we have to be careful which ones we use. They must be powerful, so that we don’t need to cast tons of them, but not so powerful that he could be harmed. And first and foremost we have to get a diagnosis, see what’s wrong with him. He doesn’t seem to have any external injuries but he’s unconscious so there’s obviously something wrong. And we have to dry him.”

As he lists everything he thinks we should do to Simon, Malcolm steps closer to him, his wand out. I hear him whisper a spell to summon towels and clean clothes. For a split second, I wonder why he didn’t just cast a drying spell, it’s so much more practical, but then I remembers his warning about not using too much magic on Simon. I suppose we can’t waste a spell on something that can be done without magic, even if it’s more work. 

I join Malcolm next to Simon as he starts unceremoniously unbuttoning his trousers. They’re drenched on one side. I suppose his other leg was against Baz, or facing away from the direction the rain was falling in. 

“Take his shirt off,” Malcolm orders.

I do, paying attention not to move his head too much. I’ve undressed the girls, and even Baz, as they were lying down multiple times, it’s something I know how to do. Malcolm is a bit messier about it, but he manages. 

He hands me a towel, and I start drying the side of Simon’s face and arm that still have water running on them, and then I wipe his chest, where he’s just damp and not wet. The moment I’m done, I open my mouth to ask Malcolm for the shirt he summoned, but he’s already giving it to me, before he reaches for the trousers.

Once Simon is dry, clothed, and, hopefully, getting warmer thanks to that, that’s when the real challenge starts.

“I think you should cast most of the spells,” Malcolm tells me. “Your magic feels less aggressive than mine. If he wakes up while we’re still using spells, it might be hard on him feeling my magic.”

‘Less aggressive’, that’s one way to put it. I hate when he casts spells on me for that exact reason, because his magic is brutal. Malcolm’s magic feels like having a bucket of ice suddenly turned over on you, the ice sliding down your body, freezing you to the bone. I always found it quite ironic that his first wife’s and son’s magics are hot like fire when his is so cold.

I nod. “You’re right, that’d be better for him,” I say as I put my hand on my necklace, closing my eyes. 

I murmur a spell, and when my eyes open again, Simon’s vitals and a list of what’s wrong with him is writing himself. His heartbeat is a bit too slow, but nothing truly worrying, it’s probably because he’s not conscious. Hypothermia. That was to be expected ; his lips are still tinted with blue despite the fact that he’s inside now, and wearing the new, warm clothes we put on him. Sprained wrist. That surprises me a bit more. How did he sprain his wrist? Maybe he fainted and fell on it? Or injured himself facing the Humdrum?

But the part of his diagnosis that really makes my stomach drop is the ‘LACK OF … ?’ in capital letters, indicating that it’s the biggest issue with him. 

Lack of magic, I can only assume, even if the spell can’t identify it.

We, as mages, often say that magic is part of us. I suppose this is evidence that it’s _really_ part of us, and not an insignificant one. It breaks my heart to think that Simon lost it. I don’t use mine that much, but I know it’d be a tragedy if it were gone. 

Refocusing on the task at hand under Malcolm’s expectant gaze, I first cast ‘ **You’re getting warmer** ’ on him. It’s a spell that’s often used on children, after they’ve been outside for a long time under the snow or in cases of particularly cold temperatures. It’s a simple and not too powerful spell, so I suppose it’s appropriate to use on Simon. Slowly, I see his body temperature rise until it reaches a normal number. His lips are back to their usual shade.

When that’s done, I start working on his wrist, being careful with my spellwork. If I mess up, I could break his wrist instead of healing it. That’s what's so tricky about magic. A spell can easily have the opposite effect than what you expected if you’re not casting it perfectly. 

It takes two spells for the ‘sprained wrist’ part of his diagnosis to vanish. Now, he’s technically physically fine, except for his lack of magic, but no spell can help with that, unfortunately.

I still cast another spell on him, ‘ **There’s no place like home** ’. It’s meant to make you feel at peace if you're in an environment where you’re comfortable in. I don’t think that the manor qualifies as such, but even if the spell mentions a place, spells aren’t so literal, so your environment isn’t just the physical building you’re in, it is also the people around you, therefore I assume that Baz’s presence should be enough to make the spell work.

Once I’m done with my spells, I let go of my necklace, my hand warm from touching it for so long, and cross my arms on my chest as I turn to Malcolm. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” he asks me when our eyes meet. “This… ‘lack of’... what if it’s too much for his body to take? A mage losing their magic is unheard of. Even those that are cast out still have their magic, even if they can’t use it.”

I’m wondering that too, to be honest. You can survive without a limb, without an organ, even, in certain cases, but magic is so different from all of that. It feels like something physical, but not at all at the same time. All I know is that it feels _essential._

And Simon doesn’t have it anymore.

“I don’t know,” I answer, looking back at Simon, feeling sadness rise in me. “I don’t know if he’ll be okay.”

**…**

**Baz**

I’m going to scream.

I know that technically, my father did the right thing. I’m not in the right state of mind to be helpful healing Simon right now, but it’s killing me not to be with him. For all I know, he has woken up while they were casting spells on him. For all I know he _won’t_ wake up.

Can it kill you, losing your magic? Can it be such a hard, punishing event that it actually kills you?

I’m going to stop thinking about that before I get sick.

Simon won’t die. He’s Simon fucking Snow, I’m not sure he _can_ die at this point. This fool has been involved in so many terrible, life-threatening situations, and he’s still there. Miraculously. 

Thank Merlin for his incredible luck.

Octavia whines when I put her down on my bed, but I’m honestly not in the mood to carry her around just because she wants to, so I guess I’ll deal with her crying. I cast a spell on the bed so that she can’t fall off it even if she rolls and crawls on it, and then I head to my wardrobe and grab some pyjamas. I spell myself and my current clothes dry ; it’s not the most comfortable feeling in the world, but it’s better than my wet hair dripping on the warm clothes I’m going to put on, and then I’m taking my shirt, trousers, pants and socks off. It’s much easier than if I’d done it when they were drenched. I’ve just put my pyjama bottoms on when I hear the door of my room open. I startle, and turn around quickly. Mordelia. The damned kid almost walked in on me naked, Crowley.

“Knock,” I tell her before she can open her mouth.

She lets out a loud sigh, but still closes the door -slams it- and then knocks. Ten times, up until I shout “Come in.” after putting my top on. 

I still need to button it, but I couldn’t handle hearing the knocking any longer.

She walks towards me, and stops only inches from me. Behind her, I can see that the twins are watching from the corridor. Nosy little things.

Mordelia has to raise her head quite a lot to look at me in the eyes. 

“What happened to Simon?”

I almost rip off the button I’m fastening. Fuck, I hate kids. They have no filter, no sense of subtlety. 

I take a deep breathe as I finish closing my shirt, and then I’m crouching in front of Mordelia. It’s better to talk with her. She prefers it when she’s on eye level with people instead of always having to look up. It makes her feel less inferior, or something like that. 

“Simon did something very brave but very dangerous to protect me,” I say, feeling guilt tying a knot in my throat. It’s when he saw the Humdrum threatening to hurt _me_ that he lost it and gave him all of his magic. If I hadn’t been there… No. I hadn’t been there, he’d given up his magic anyway. If the Humdrum wanted it all, he would have given it all no matter what. It doesn’t mean I’m going to feel any less guilty about this. I clear my throat before I continue. “to protect us _all_ , and he got hurt in the process. Mum and dad are taking care of him, he’ll be fine.”

Please may he be fine when my parents are done with him.

Mordelia has a sad look on her face. Simon has really grown on her. He’s grown on all of them. He’s so easy to love. 

“You promise he’ll be okay?”

I know it’s foolish to make promises on things you have no control over. My father and Fiona made so many empty promises when I was little, because kids insist on being _promised_ things so much. Because they think adults know better. That if an adult says something, promises something, then it must be true. I was like that too, not so long ago. 

I now see how fucking wrong it is. 

I feel more lost and overwhelmed by events every day. Like everything keeps slipping through my fingers and I have no way to hold things back or to retrieve them once they’re gone. 

And yet, because I want Mordelia to stop looking so upset, I say “I promise.”

She gives me a small smile, that I try to return but all I can manage is a grimace. I can’t smile, not when the love of my life is unconscious in the living room because he tried to keep me safe and I don’t know if _he_ is safe.

“Do you want a hug?” Mordy asks, surprising me.

She doesn’t hug me much. Mostly when I leave for school, and when I come back from it, because she will miss me or has missed me. She doesn’t casually hug me. The little demon screams bloody murder when I try to pick her up to hold her against me. 

But today, she’s asking if I want a hug.

Do I look that miserable?

“Yes,” I answer truthfully, my voice a bit too breathy. 

When I feel Mordelia put her arms around my neck, tears start prickling my eyes. I hug her back, holding her close to my chest -maybe too close, but she isn’t complaining- closing my eyes. Only seconds later, I feel four little arms awkwardly trying to hug me from the sides, and that’s when I break. I don’t know if it’s children in general, or just my sisters, but the twins have always come to me when I was sad. When Daphne used to come to my room, balancing one of them on her hip and I was crying, the little one would reach out with her tiny arms until I took her in mine or Daphne put her down on me if I was lying down. 

Mordelia starts shushing me, playing with my hair, probably trying to replicate what her mum does to her when she’s comforting her. “It’s okay. You said he’ll be fine.”

**…**

I don’t have it in me to chase the girls away after that, so I let them stay in my room, and we all get on my bed. Quickly enough, Mordelia, that nightmare of a child, decides I have to let her braid my hair. She won’t take ‘Braid your own hair’ as an answer. The twins simply babble with Octavia. They love the baby a lot. Mordelia is a bit more reticent with her younger sisters. She doesn’t have much patience, and she quickly gets irritated by them. She doesn’t understand that the twins can’t do all the things she does. She treats them like they were children her age, when really, they’re still closer to being babies than little children. It’s even worse with Octavia. Mordelia groans whenever Octavia starts crying, because she doesn’t get that it’s the only way the little one can express herself when she has any kind of problem and wants attention. 

I don’t remember being like that when she was born. Maybe it was because I was older. Or because I was so excited to have a little sister to complain about her. I’d always been jealous of Dev, with his two brothers, because I was _alone,_ the only friend I had at home was my dog, but then Mordelia came and suddenly there was _noise_ in that big, cold house that had been silent and empty for so long. Now it’s almost never silent, except when they’re all sound asleep, and it also feels less empty, because the girls put their mess everywhere. Not a day goes by without finding random toys where they don’t belong ; a doll abandoned in a corridor, the crown of Ophelia’s princess costume around the handle of a door, toy cars on the stairs -I tripped on one of them more times than I care to admit. 

I’m still looking fondly at the girls when my father appears on the door frame, his face not letting anything show, as usual.

“Come with me,” he says, looking right at me. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz finally sees Simon again  
> Daphne takes care of both of them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn’t think I’d manage to write something today. I started writing much later than I usually do, planing to write something like 1k, just to have less to write tomorrow, but then the Daphne obsession kicked in and I got carried away. So you have my Daphne obsession to thank (or curse?) for this chapter

**Baz**

The distance between my room and the living room has never been this long. Snow was right, the manor is entirely too big. 

When I finally, _finally_ get there, alone -Father stayed behind with the little ones- my eyes immediately go to the sofa, where Simon is lying, eyes open.

Thank Merlin, Morgana, Crowley, Methuselah, and every other sacred figure I know. He’s awake. He got through this. 

Of course he did. 

He’s Simon fucking Snow.

I practically run towards him, with the obvious intention to throw myself at him like I haven’t seen him in years, but Daphne stops me with a firm hand on my chest. 

I really like her but if she keeps me away from Simon one more second…

“He has woken up, thankfully, but he won’t talk to any of us. We’ve tried calling his name and asking if he was okay but he didn’t react. We thought he might if you were the one doing the talking, but please be gentle. I know you’re worried and you just want to make sure he’s fine, but don’t make him feel overwhelmed, okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, of course,” and then I’m pushing Daphne’s arm down to be able to walk the rest of the distance to the sofa.

His eyes are open, but there’s nothing in them. They’re not shining like they always do. It sends a shiver down my spine.

I kneel next to the sofa, reaching out carefully to stroke his hair. “Hey, you.”

He doesn’t even flinch. He has absolutely no reaction, nor to my touching nor to my talking to him.

“Simon, can you hear me love?”

He likes pet names a lot. They always make him grin like an idiot. But now he’s not reacting. His eyes just keep staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even turn them in my direction when I arrived. 

“Simon, darling, please if you can hear me let me know. Are you with me?”

I’m terrified he got lost in his own mind. I can’t bring him back to reality by calming his magic if he…

If he has no more magic to calm. 

This time he reacts, and I half wish he didn’t, because all he does is shaking his head and putting pressure on my arm, with the obvious intent to make me let go of his hair. Simon doesn’t shy away from physical contact, never. He initiates it, more often than not, because he seems to want to be touching me all the time. 

But not now.

Right now, he doesn’t want my touch.

“Leave me alone,” he lets out faintly, so low I can almost not hear it.

He doesn’t want my _presence._

I feel my heart clench in my chest. 

“Simon…” I try, because he can’t do that, he can’t push me away when I’ve been worried sick since he fainted, when I’ve been holding my breath since he fell and didn’t breathe out until I saw that he was alive.

“I told you to leave me alone,” he says again, shortly, his voice still as low.

This time, he goes so far as to turning his back on me, pressing his body against the backrest of the sofa as much as he can without suffocating.

My heart breaks a little.

Why doesn’t he want me to be here for him? It can’t be better dealing with whatever is on his mind alone than talking about it to me, or just letting my presence soothe him. 

I feel Daphne’s hand on my shoulder before I hear her voice “We should give him some time.” And then, louder. “Simon, if you need anything, call us okay? I’ll stay around here, and dinner will be served soon anyhow. We’re here for you, honey, keep that in mind. You don’t have to be alone.”

“I want to,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the sofa.

“I know. But if later you don’t want to anymore, we’re here. Come on Baz, let’s go,” she tells me, her hand sliding down to circle my arm so that she can pull on it. 

Reluctantly, I get on my feet, casting a concerned look at Simon before following my stepmother outside, not without telling him that I love him.

He doesn’t say it back.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that I’ve said it.

It hurts more than it should. Once we’re in the blue lounge -that’s where Daphne dragged me- she makes me sit down, and sits next to me.

It’s strange being here. Pretty much ever since Daphne moved in here, the blue lounge has been my parents’ place. It was never forgiven for me to come here, but it felt wrong, for some reason.

Daphne takes my hand in hers. When I look up at her face, I see that her cheeks are flushed. Using magic does that to her, since she does it so little. Daphne prefers doing things the Normal way, she only uses spells when it’s really necessary, or when it comes to health. She’d rather kiss an injury better than put a bandage on it and let it heal naturally.

Daphne’s healing spells are quite good, even the more advanced ones. The ones she used on me, after the car crash and my attempt. I wonder if she used any similar spells tonight with Simon.

“How are you feeling?” she asks me softly, her thumb rubbing the back of my hand.

“Not well,” I answer, huffing out a bitter laugh. “He gave him magic up, Mother. I was there, and I tried to help him keep some of it, just like we planned, and we were doing well but then…” That guilt seizes me again. “Then, the Humdrum somehow understood that Simon had given me his magic, and he… he threatened me. And Simon, ever the hero, threw himself on the Humdrum to keep him from harming me and finished giving him his magic. Right after, he blacked out. It’s… I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault. It’s because the Humdrum wanted to hurt me that Simon snapped and gave up the rest of his magic. 

I’m staring at the floor. I can’t bear to hold Daphne’s gaze right. Whatever feeling they’re expressing, I don’t want to see them. 

“Baz, it’s not your fault. I can understand why you think that, but you can’t put the blame on yourself like that. It won’t solve Simon’s problem. Your feeling guilty will only make you less capable of being there for him because you’ll be too eaten away by your own guilt to provide him with the comfort he needs. I’m sure that Simon doesn’t blame you, so don’t go blaming yourself, okay? He made his own choice, and it’s not your fault that he chose to offer the Humdrum all of his magic, even if you were a factor in his decision. It’s _not_ your fault,” she says again, as if repeating the words will make me accept them. As if it’ll make them true.

“But I should have tried to help him more, I… All I did was stand there petrified and useless as he did this stupidly heroic thing, and I… I feel so… He saved _me_ and I didn’t help _him._ I was so bloody useless, I thought if I was taken away with him it’d be a good thing, but in truth he’d probably have been better off facing the Humdrum without me.”

That’s not entirely what I think. I’m still convinced he would have given all of his magic to the Humdrum if it was what he asked. 

But…

But maybe the Humdrum only asked for that because Simon and I tricked him, holding some magic by.

Maybe if Simon had gone anole, and the Humdrum hadn’t felt fooled, he’d have let Simon keep some of his magic. 

One of Daphne’s hands lets go of mine to stroke my hair softly, her fingers running through my locks. “You did help him, Baz. You brought him here. You let us heal him. He might… Things might have been worse if you hadn’t reacted the way you did, or if you’d waited much longer to carry him here. You might not have been able to help him the way you wanted to, with his magic, but you still weren’t useless to him. Imagine if he’d gone alone, he’d still be in that forest, unconscious and freezing cold. You did well, Baz.”

“But it wasn’t _enough._ ”

She sighs. I think she’s running out of arguments. Or she realized that there was no point arguing with me when I’m like that. 

Instead, she simply uses her hold on my head to pull me closer.

**…**

**Daphne**

“Daphne!”

We both jump when Simon’s voice rings in our ears, and Baz casts me a puzzled glance, but I can see some hurt in his eyes too. He’s probably wondering why Simon is asking for me and not him. Poor child.

“I’m coming,” I shout back at Simon as I stroke Baz’s hair one last time before letting go of him completely and standing up. 

He looks so helpless, sitting there, not knowing what’s wrong with Simon. It’s killing me to see him like that. I don’t want him to stay here moping while I’m gone ; it’s dangerous to leave Baz alone with his thoughts when he’s particularly upset, and I’d rather not see him more hurt than he already is, so I say “I think you should call Penelope Bunce. She knew the Humdrum might come for Simon today, she must be worried sick. Besides, it’s better for Simon if you’re the one explaining it to her. He really doesn’t need to be forced to talk about it now, it won’t do him any good.”

Baz nods, his eyes staring in space instead of looking at me. He’s been avoiding my gaze for most of the time we’ve been in here. “You’re right, that’s a good idea, I’m going to do that.”

I give him a small, encouraging smile, and then I’m on my way out. As worried as I am for him, I can’t make Simon wait too much. He also cruelly needs attention and support.

As I reach the living room, the first thing that strikes me is that he’s sitting and no longer lying. His shoulders are hunched, like something too heavy is resting on them, and he is also looking everywhere but at me, but at least he isn’t lying down, hiding his face, like he was when I left.

Small victories.

“Do you need something?” I ask him, making my voice as sweet as I can without sounding like when I talk to the little ones. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate feeling like I’m babying him.

“A room. I need a room.”

I frown. “A room? Why don’t you go back to Baz’s?”

“A room that isn’t his. I don’t want to be with him tonight.”

Thank Merlin Baz didn’t follow me here. 

“Well then, of course you can have another. But why don’t you want to be with him? He’s really worried, you know.”

Simon groans as he stands up. “Yeah, exactly, that’s why I don’t want to be with him. I don’t want to have him fussing over me.”

He walks towards me, a bit more slowly than he usually does. 

“Are you hurt anywhere? Or sore?” I ask.

Maybe the diagnosis spell wasn’t accurate enough. Or maybe Simon’s loss of magic is affecting him physically. I don’t know. 

“No. I’m fine.”

It sounds like a lie, but I’m not going to push. He’s in a difficult situation, I don’t want to make it any harder for him, even if it would ease my worry. 

I wait until he’s next to me to put an arm around his shoulders, both because I’m trying to comfort him and because it’s also a physical kind of support in case his body is too weak still. His legs really aren’t steady, and he looks pale, though much less than he did when Baz brought him in.

“Would you rather have a room near mine or near Baz’s? I don’t want you to be too isolated.”

“Near yours, then.”

“Okay.”

It is, in fact, not okay. I don’t like that he’s trying to avoid Baz. It’ll surely hurt Baz, and I have a feeling it won’t be good for Simon either. Nonetheless, I won’t go against him, so when I lead him up the stairs, I follow the path to my room, on the same side of the first floor, but not the same corridor as Baz’s. He’s alone in his corridor, and the girls are in the same as the one where my and Malcolm’s room is. It gives him some peace while keeping him close to us.

And tonight Simon would rather be on this corridor than on Baz’s.

I walk until we reach the room at the very end of the corridor, the further from the others to give Simon some privacy. 

“Ugh, it’s so macabre in that house,” Simon comments as I open the door, the room appearing in front of his eyes.

I squeeze his shoulder. “At least this room isn’t haunted,” I tell him, trying to lighten the mood with a joke. 

The presence of wraiths in the manor has been a recurring topic in the conversations the boys had that I overheard. Simon still doesn’t believe the manor is haunted because he hasn’t encountered any of the ghosts.

Lucky him.

I remember thinking like him, when I moved in here and Malcolm told me about ghosts. I was sure he was making fun of me until I had the misfortune of meeting one. I hope Simon won’t experience that, especially not now. He already has enough on his mind already without the wraiths making him feel like he’s not welcome between these walls.

Simon doesn’t answer my comment about the room being haunted, and he doesn’t smile either, simply entering the room and taking in his surroundings.

“It's nothing like how Baz’s room is organized.”

“The furniture in all of the rooms is placed slightly differently so that they don’t look all the same. Just let me change the sheets, no one has slept in this room since last Christmas, the bed needs freshening up.”

He nods, still looking around, as if he were trying to find something special or intriguing. 

As I walk toward one of the wardrobes to take clean sheets from, I see him looking at the bookshelf curiously.

“How is it possible that those people own so many books,” he says under his breath. 

I don’t think he’s talking to me, but I still heard his comment, and it makes me chuckle. “The Pitches have an impressive collection of books, indeed. They’ve been living here for centuries, you quickly accumulate things. The attic is full of objects that didn’t fit anywhere else and that have most likely been there for decades, or even centuries, it’s fascinating to explore it. I think the books that are in the bookshelves of each room are the most interesting thing, though, because you can have an idea of when the room you’re in was last lived in by a member of the family. I think the oldest books I’ve seen date back from the 19th century. There’s a copy of one of the first editions of Pride and Prejudice in a room on the third floor.”

I mention that because I know that Simon knows that it’s Baz’s favourite book. I’ve heard the both of them talk about it, and Baz was reading it to Simon once, when I visited them in his room.

It works.

I see a small smile tug at Simon’s lips. It’s barely visible, but it’s there.

He trails his finger along some books as he comments “It’s Baz’s favourite. He must have been excited about it, when he heard there was a first edition in his house.”

“He was,” I smile back, letting go of the sheets on the floor. We don’t let the rooms get too dusty, particularly those on the first floor. They’re spelled clean every week, so it’s fine putting the clean bedsheets there. “I think he held that book more carefully than he ever did his sisters.”

That gets a huffed laugh out of Simon. Good.

“D’you want help with the bed?” he asks, watching me taking the current sheets off.

“I could use a hand, thank you.”

His gait is still shaky. He really needs to rest.

Changing the bed is much easier with someone else helping me do it. Once the new sheets are on, I bend down to pick up the old ones, and give Simon a smile when I straighten my back. “Do you want me to stay with you a little bit longer or would you rather stay alone?”

“Alone, please,” he answers as he sits on the bed, facing away from me. 

That was to be expected.

“Do you want to have your dinner brought up here? It should be served soon and I assume you won’t come down to the dining room,” I say as I walk around the bed until I’m close to Simon. He still has this scared look in his eyes, like a lost child. 

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry.”

“Okay. Remember, if you need anything, I’m here. We’re all here. I’m not sure we’ll hear you call from here, but don’t hesitate to come. Even if it’s the middle of the night. My room is the first one on the left when you come from the stairs, and you know where Baz’s is.” In a moment of boldness, I get on my tiptoes to kiss his forehead. It’s messy with the space that the sheets take up in my arms, but he doesn’t push me away or complain. I was scared he would. He’s never told me if it was okay for me to act like that with him, but it’s breaking my heart to see him looking so helpless. I have to do _something_ , even if it’s simply trying to give him a semblance of comfort. “Good night, honey.”

“Good night, Daphne,” he murmurs when I walk away.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz calls Penny, Malcolm and Baz have a conversation, and Baz tries to talk to Simon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ndndndjd i had exams today and yesterday but those were easy ones, the more complicated ones start next week :’)

**Baz**

“Hello?” 

I can sense the tension in Bunce’s voice from this word alone. Merlin, this won’t be easy. 

“Hello, Bunce.”

She practically interrupts me “Is Simon okay?”

I wish I knew.

“It’s… It’s difficult to say,” I answer, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. It’s not something that should be done over the phone, but I couldn’t handle Bunce coming to the manor now, or any time soon, really. “He gave up all of his magic.”

She gasps. “All of it? Was he alone?”

Thanks for twisting the knife in the wound, Bunce.

“No, I was there.”

I was there and I was no help. I was there and he lost his magic anyway. I was there and I couldn’t fucking do the one thing I was supposed to do.

“Oh. Well, what happened? If you were there, you can tell me.”

I tell the story again. Everything going according to plan, up until the Humdrum understood we were fooling him. His anger, the fire he summoned. Simon’s desperate attempt to protect me by giving the Humdrum what he wanted. How he fainted and I carried him home. I tell her about my parents healing him and his silence afterwards. I tell her how he wanted to be alone, and how now he’s doing Merlin knows what with my stepmother. All while I tell her this, I try to keep control of my voice, I don’t need to show Bunce my emotions, I did that too much already when she was here the other day, but I can’t. I can’t talk about how fucking useless I was to Simon keeping my voice steady. 

Once I’m done with my story, there are a few seconds where the only thing I can head is Bunce’s breathing, and then she eventually says, her voice sounding about as troubled as mine, “Do you think I could come to your place? Or at least talk to him on the phone?”

I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “No. He didn’t want to be with me,” The words are hard to get out. He didn’t want to be with me. It hurts so much. “I doubt he’ll want to be with you. I’ll ask him if he wants to call you tomorrow but I can’t guarantee he will.”

She hums. “Okay. Now, Basil, how are you feeling?”

I must admit, the question caught me off guard. I frown. “Why are you asking that?”

Why would _she_ ask that? If it was Dev or Niall on the phone, I’d get it, but Bunce?

“You don’t sound okay, and seeing all of those things that happened with the Humdrum can’t have been easy for you, so I’m asking how you’re feeling.”

“I don’t want to talk about feelings with you. I did what I had to do, I told you about Snow, now I’m hanging up. Bye.”

I don’t even give her the opportunity to answer before I end the call. 

**…**

**Daphne**

On my way back downstairs, I go out of my way to check up on Malcolm and the girls. I know they stayed upstairs, I didn’t hear anyone come down, but I don’t know exactly where they are, so I look in all of the rooms in the corridor. They’re nowhere to be seen. 

Baz’s room maybe, then?

And indeed, they’re here, all on the bed. Malcolm looks a bit overwhelmed. He rarely has to watch the four of them at the same time, with Octavia awake on top of that. At the moment he’s trying to stop the twins from jumping on the bed, and possibly falling on the floor, or someone, while holding Octavia in one arm. Mordy is no help at all, standing behind him, braiding his hair and encouraging Cordelia and Ophelia to keep having fun. Overall it’s a disaster. 

“Girls,” I say, trying to hide my amusement. “Listen to your father. Stop jumping.”

Ophelia and Cordelia immediately sit on the bed. Malcolm gives me a truly grateful look as he lets out a sigh.

“Daphne, thank Merlin. They’re impossible.”

I smile as I really walk in the room, heading to the bed. “They’re going to be good now, right girls?”

They nod, all three of them, even Mordelia. 

“I’m going to replace you here,” I tell Malcolm as I take a wriggling Octavia from his arms. “I think you should check up on Baz. He’s still shaken by what happened to Simon, and you’ve been rather… brutal with him earlier. I know you meant well, but still.”

“What about Simon? How is he doing?”

I position Octavia more comfortably in my arms, before I look back to Malcolm. He looks genuinely concerned. He’s starting to really like this boy, even if he won’t admit it. “Not well, as you can expect. I gave him the room at the end of our corridor.”

“Why? He’s always slept here since he arrived,” he says with a barely noticeable grimace.

“He wanted to be alone. Tell Baz that. That Simon is in another room, I mean, so that he isn’t surprised if he doesn’t see him tonight.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be the one who talks to Baz? I’m not exactly the person he goes to for comfort.”

“I’m sure. You’re his father, Malcolm. Show him you care. Come on, go see him. He should be in the blue lounge, unless he went somewhere else while I was gone.”

I hate that I have to tell him that ; to show Baz that he cares. I know that he wants to be there for him, that he wishes their relationship was better, but he won’t make the first step. And Baz so obviously craves his father’s attention, but he won’t go talk to him like he does to me because thinks Malcolm won’t care. It’s so frustrating. 

“Fine then,” Malcolm says as he stands up, fixing the creases on his trousers. “But don’t be surprised if I come back in five minutes because he didn’t want to see me.”

I roll my eyes at him. Sometimes it feels like I’m the only adult in this household. “Out of my sight, Malcolm.”

**…**

**Malcolm**

The problem isn’t that I don’t want to be with Baz. Ever since I saw how shaken he was when he asked our help, I’ve been wanting to go see him. To tell him that it’ll be okay, even if things may look desperate now. 

But I don’t think it’s something he wants. He’s always so uncomfortable when we’re alone, while he’s so relaxed with Daphne, there’s no way he’d rather see me than see her. 

As I press on the handle of the blue lounge, I brace myself for the disappointment I’ll see in his eyes when he’ll realize I’m none of the people he wants to be with right now. 

I only see surprise. 

“Father?”

 _Father._ It’s so cold. He started calling me that on his own, when he came back from Watford for the first time. He hasn’t said ‘dad’ ever since. 

I haven’t asked him to say ‘dad’.

I close the door behind me and go sit next to him before I say “Would you mind letting me cast a diagnosis spell on you?”

“Why, I’m fine.”

“I’d like to make sure that you are. Please, Baz.”

He looks at me with confusion in those eyes that used to be greener, so much like his mother’s. “Well, go on, if you want but I’m fine, I promise,” he says as he sits back on the couch, letting his arms fall around his body. 

I take my wand out, and cast the spells, watching him shiver when he feels my magic. “Sorry.”

“I knew how it would feel.”

Soon enough, I see letters appear. Anaemia, but that was to be expected with his condition, especially if he hasn’t fed in a while. I must admit I don’t keep track of his feeding. And his body temperature and heartbeat are extremely low, but that’s not a surprise either. It still is disturbing to see such numbers. Anyone else who would have vitals like his would be… dead.

The spell doesn’t show anything else.

“So?” he says, arching one of his eyebrows.

“Nothing.”

“See, I told you I was fine,” he says smugly as I put my wand back where it belongs. “I don’t get sick and my injuries heal fast.”

That might be the only positive aspect of his vampirism. It used to worry me when he was a little kid, because he’d never catch any disease, not even a cold or the flu, but then I understood that it was because of his condition. I suppose you can’t be sick if you’re not… If you’re not _fully_ alive.

“Basilton, you were gone for Merlin knows how long facing the biggest threat to the magickal world and you came back in a very clear state of shock. Allow me to worry about your health.”

He gives me something I’m sure was intended to be a smile, but looks more like a grimace. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Silence.

This heavy, uncomfortable silence that always eventually settles when Baz and I are alone in a room. He keeps shifting, crossing and uncrossing his legs, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt.

When the atmosphere starts being too stifling, I summon the courage to keep _talking_ to my son, and clear my throat. It brings his eyes back on me.

“I owe you an apology, for the way I threw you out of the room after you brought Simon in.”

“You were right to do so,” he admits, and it seems like it wounds him to admit it. 

I know that I was right to do it. He could not have held a wand properly in the state he was, and even when you’re not Simon Snow with his too intense magic, your magic can go a little crazy when you’re in a particular state of panic or fear. It would have been a disaster if Baz had stayed in the room while Daphne healed Simon. 

“It was the right thing to do, yes,” I say. “But you were worried and wanted to stay by his side, it’s a normal and perfectly understandable reaction, I should have been more… delicate, I suppose when I made you leave. I was worried, I only thought about healing Simon as soon as possible and didn’t take your feelings into account. So I’m sorry, for being so abrupt with you.”

“Wait… you were worried? What for?” Baz asks, frowning.

“For Simon. He passed out and you looked terrified. Of course I was worried. I didn’t know if he’d make it out alive.”

And it reminded me of seeing you like this, I don’t say. 

When he was 5, and he almost died in a vampire attack.

When he was 16 and he almost died in a car crash.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath not to let the memories overwhelm me. It’s not time for that. Baz wouldn’t understand, and I don’t want to have to explain it to him. To tell him that I thought I might die too, those two times I saw him, unconscious and covered in blood.

When I open my eyes, I see that Baz’s went wide.

“You were actually worried for _Simon?_ I thought you disliked him.”

“I did, at first. But he’s a good kid, and he hasn’t given me any reason to dislike him.”

**…**

**Baz**

I had noticed that Father didn’t seem to hate Simon as much, in the last few days, but he seems to be saying that he _likes_ him. That was unexpected to say the least. I’ve pretty much always assumed that my father would hate any man I’d bring home, no matter how charming and perfect he’d be, and Snow isn’t really charming or perfect. He’s a mess. A gigantic, colossal mess.

“Except for the fact that he’s my boyfriend,” I say, because I can’t help it. Because I always have this voice at the back of my head that tells me that my father hates me, or at the very least, hates that part of me. 

He lets out a small, irritated sigh, before he reaches out with his hand, putting it on my shoulder. I almost jump at the contact. 

“Baz. I don’t know how many times I’ll have to tell you this for you to believe it, but I don’t… I don’t care that you’re gay. It was hard to swallow, and I wasn’t okay with it for a long time, which I’m sorry for, but now that I’ve seen you with Simon I see that this, that what you two have, it’s not a bad thing. I can’t resent you for being in love. So no, Simon being your boyfriend doesn’t make me dislike him. It’s rather the opposite. I’ve seen you smile more since you first brought him here than I have in years. I’m glad about that. If you can find happiness with another man, then so be it.”

Okay, did I die in that forest? Did the Humdrum actually burn me? This can’t be real.

My father has said in the past that he didn’t have a problem with Snow and I being a couple as long as it was good for me but it’s not the same thing as… that. 

I feel tears burning my eyes.

Fuck, no. 

I _can’t_ cry in front of my father. So instead, to try and keep some control over myself, I do what I do best. Be a prick, like Snow would say. “Did Daphne ask you to say that?”

His shoulders hunch a little, and he starts letting go of my shoulder, but then he grips it tighter instead.

“No, your mother did not ask me to say that. I’m saying it because I mean it, Baz. Now,” he adds, the tone of his voice changing, sounding a bit less soft than it did before. “What Daphne did ask me to tell you is that Simon has asked to have a room to be on his own, tonight.”

My face falls. 

Simon _really_ doesn’t want to see me. 

I hate this. I’m sure he’s angry at me for not helping him more. He must hate me, after that.

I understand. I don’t know how I’d feel about him if the situation was reversed, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be positive. 

“Which room?” I ask, because even if he doesn’t want to sleep in mine, even if he doesn’t want to see me, I have to try. I have to tell him that I’m sorry. That I love him. 

“The one at the end of the corridor where mine is,” Father answers, and I’m up before he’s even done with his sentence. “But Baz, I think you should give him time. Don’t go see him now.”

“I need to.”

The only answer my father gives me this time is a desperate sigh, but he doesn’t try to hold me back. I’m stronger than him anyway, he couldn’t have held me back if he wanted to. 

**…**

In front of the door, I hesitate. Maybe father is right and I should leave him alone. What happened was hard for me, but Merlin knows it was even more for him. But at the same time… I just can’t stay like this. I have to talk to him. To see him, if he’ll let me. His ignoring me is killing me.

So, before I can debate it any long, I knock on the door.

“What?” I hear his voice answer, weak and muffled by the door and distance between us.

“It’s Baz. Can I come in, please?”

Silence. The rustling of the bed sheets. 

“Why?”

Why? What kind of stupid question is that? Can’t he understand _why._

“I need to see you. Please, love.”

Some more noise come from inside the room. The rustling of the sheets again. The bed creaking a little. Footsteps, loud on the wooden floor. I feel hope rise in me as the footsteps are louder and louder as he comes closer and closer. 

I hear the exact moment he puts his hand on the door handle, but I also hear the moment when he lets go of it without opening it.

“I… I can’t see you right now.”

The words are a stab in the heart. 

“Why?”

I’m the one asking that stupid question this time.

“I just can’t. Leave me alone, Baz.”

“Simon… I just want to know if you’re okay. Please.”

I put my hand on the door, and I imagine that his is there too, on the other side. It isn’t, of course, but it feels good imagining it. 

He chuckles bitterly. 

“Okay? Of course I’m not okay, Baz. I lost my bloody magic. How do you want me to be okay?”

His trembling voice sinks the knife further in my chest. 

I need to see him, I need to see him, I need to see him.

I need to see him, and I need to hold him, and I need to talk to him but not through a door, and I need… I need to be here for him.

But he won’t let me. 

He doesn’t want me to be with him.

He wants me to _leave him alone._

“Just go, Baz. That’s the best thing you can do for me right now.”

I’m so close to breaking the fucking door and get inside the room anyway. I could, I’m strong enough to do it. But I don’t want to do that to Simon. As much as it hurts me, if solitude is what he needs, I can grant him at least that. If that’s the only way I can help him, to make up for how I _didn’t_ help him in the forest, I’ll do it. 

My hand hurts when I take it off the door. It’s like each minuscule movement taking me away from Simon Snow causes me physical pain. 

“I love you,” I say as I walk away. 

His lack of answer is the killing blow. Tears start flowing down my cheeks. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re sad. That’s all I have to say  
> ALSO! In this chapter I introduce the Third Main Character of this story (no it’s not Daphne, hush) : Simon’s cardigan

**Simon**

I know I’m being a prick to Baz. But I just _can’t_ handle being with him right now. His mum’s worry felt stifling, and Daphne isn’t nearly as worried for me as Baz is. And I just know that seeing him will bring me back to the forest. To the fear that seized me when I saw the flame in the Humdrum’s hand. When I thought about Baz being hurt. Baz dying because of me, because I was selfish and tried to keep my magic instead of giving it away. 

I feel a rock fall on my stomach as I think about that.

Fuck! The whole point was _not_ to think about that. 

I want to go for a walk, I desperately need fresh air to clear my head, but it’s so early, they’re all still here and I don’t want to risk meeting anyone. Especially Baz.

So I don’t go outside. 

Instead, I go open the windows, because that’s the next best thing. The window creaks so much when I open it, I’m afraid it might fall. Crowley, the rooms the Grimms live in are great, in much too good condition for a house this old, but the other rooms are a disaster. 

The sudden draught feels invigorating, though it makes me shiver. The wind is bloody cold. The wind didn’t use to feel this cold.

I have goosebumps on my arms. I try rubbing the palms of my hands against my skin to make the goosebumps go, but they remain, so I decide to close the window. I guess I’ll do without fresh air. 

I climb back on the back, disappearing under the covers. It takes some time for them to get warm and feel good around me, making the cold I felt because of the wind be replaced by their heat.

I clench my fists around the covers and bury myself in them as best as I can. They’re heavy, it feels kind of like a hug, in a strange way.

I wish I could get a real hug.

I wish I could feel the coldness of Baz’s arms around me, because that cold would never bother me, even if I was already freezing.

But it’s not possible. Because I can’t see him. Because I chased him away.

I chased him away.

I did the exact thing I would hate him for doing to me. 

I’m the worst fucking boyfriend.

**…**

**Baz**

I lock myself in one of the unoccupied rooms in the corridor. I can’t go back to mine, I’m pretty sure my sisters are still there, with Daphne I assume, and I don’t want them to see me cry. There’s no point in worrying Daphne more than she already is, and it makes the little ones sad when I cry. 

I let myself fall along the wall until I’m sitting with my knees against my chest and I can hide my face in them.

I don’t want to cry.

I’ve already cried today I don’t want to fucking do it again but the tears are here and they won’t stop and my breathing is starting to become more and more laboured and my hands aren’t steady and I have this awful fucking feeling in my chest, this pain I thought I was safe from since he first kissed me. The pain of feeling like he’s slipping through my fingers, like when I saw him with Wellbelove, holding hands with her at school, or when we had one of our fights and he’d storm out, slamming the door and only leaving a lingering smell of smoke behind him. 

I know I’m probably overreacting, he just lived something that would be extremely traumatic for any mage, I guess it’s normal that he needs time alone but I can’t help thinking that he needs time away from _me_ , because he, rightly, blames _me,_ because it’s _my_ fault he lost his magic. 

What if he really blames me?

What if my failure to assist him is too big a betrayal and he breaks up?

I’m barely starting to believe this relationship could work, I can’t lose him now, I _can’t._ Not when we’ve faced all of those things together ; the trials and the Humdrum. Not when he’s started to love me despite his past hatred. 

Not having him was hard before, when he still belonged to someone else and I never thought we could really be together. Not having him now that I know how his lips taste, how his skin feels, how his _love_ feels… I don’t even want to imagine it. It’d be a pain so much worse than anything I’ve known.

**…**

**Simon**

I wait until thirty minutes after I heard Daphne and Malcolm go to bed to leave the room. Now that everyone is in their room, I can walk around the house peacefully. 

I’m so tempted to go to Baz’s room. To crawl in his bed and ask him to hold me all night long. But at the same time, I’m terrified of seeing him. 

So I don’t. 

What I do is go down the stairs, walking through the corridors until I’m in the entrance hall. I put shoes and the warm coat Baz bought me on, and then I’m on my way outside, the cold hitting my face and hands immediately. I hide my hands in my pockets to try to keep them from freezing, and then I just start walking around the house. I don’t go too far in the garden, it’s dark, I don’t want to trip on one of the toys the girls may have left there, but I still walk and walk and walk, focusing on the sound of the wind in the leaves, of my footsteps, on the dim light that comes from the pumpkins.

The pumpkins. 

I can’t believe it was only hours ago that Baz, the girls and I carved them. It feels forever ago. 

It was when I still had my magic.

No.

I came outside to clear my mind, I’m _not_ going to think about it. Not going to think about how fucking terrible it feels not to have, so much worse than how it felt having it. 

I always loved magic, but not _my_ magic. It was too big for my body, it was an inconvenience most of the time, but fuck, it’s only been a few hours and I already miss it so damn much. I honestly didn’t think I would. Not like that. I knew it would be a loss, that it would feel strange not having it, but I grew up without having it anyway, so I thought it’d be okay not having it again.

I was fucking wrong.

I feel like I’ve lost a limb. A part of myself.

The worst part, I think, is that I didn’t _lose_ it. I gave it up. Willingly. It was my choice. I knew what would happen, and I still gave it all to the Humdrum.

It’s all my fucking fault if I feel that way now. 

I kick the pebbles underneath my feet, listening to the sound they make as they’re thrown around. 

I want to punch something. I want to slam my head against a fucking wall and scream.

I hate this. I hate this so fucking much. 

I want it back. Even just some of it. Anything to fill the void. To still feel the power inside me. The tingling in my fingers. The _warmth_. I’ve never been colder than I am now, and I’ve lived in shitty care homes with little to no heating and jumpers thinner than paper in the dead of winter for years during my childhood.

I can’t believe it’s my magic that made me so warm.

Even that. Even my bloody body heat was taken away from me when I gave the Humdrum my magic. 

All. My. Magic.

_Why did he have to want it all?_

**…**

I don’t know how long I’ve been out here, walking, kicking things, cursing the universe, when I hear the front door open. It makes me jump, and I hide on the side of the wall so that whoever came outside can’t see me.

Baz, it’s Baz. 

Those soft, barely noticeable footsteps of his. It looks a bit like he floats when he walks, and you can tell that by how faint his footsteps always sound. 

What in Merlin’s name is he doing outside this late? Baz is cold so easily, he doesn’t go outside just for the hell of it at night. Is he looking for me?

No, that’s stupid, how could he even know I’m not inside the house, he can’t have seen me leave my room we’re not on the same corridor. 

So why?

I catch a glimpse of him, and I see that he’s walking down the alley that leads to the gates. And if you bypass the gates there is… the forest.

He’s going feeding.

Fuck, how did I forget.

Since him drinking my blood didn’t cause me any problem -on the contrary-, I convinced him to feed off me. We tried to see how many days he could go without drinking. The first time, he started being grey-pale instead of just pale after 4 days, so that’s when he drank, and after that, I told him that once every 3 days seemed like a good rhythm. This way, he doesn’t have to worry about my blood renewing itself, and I don’t have to worry about him not feeding enough. It’s the best solution, really.

And today it’s been 3 days since the last time. I was supposed to give him my blood today. And I fucking forgot that, so now he’s on his way to the bloody fucking forest to drink from whatever animal he’ll hunt. Even though he hates it. Even though it makes him feel disgusted of himself when he feeds off an animal. Even though my blood is better, in all aspects, for him.

Because I forgot.

I’m the worst fucking boyfriend.

I want to go after him. To call his name and tell him to come back. To follow me inside and to let me give him my blood.

But that means talking to Baz. That means being close to him and seeing the worry on his face because he’s inevitably still thinking about what happens. 

And I don’t want that.

So I let him walk away, until I can’t even see him anymore, and sneak back inside the house to make sure we won’t meet on his way back.

**…**

**Baz**

I’m going to be sick.

Going hunting tonight wasn’t a good idea, but I was so thirsty, and I needed to get out of the house, so I still decided to go feed.

That was a terrible fucking idea.

Just the thought of being in that forest again turns my stomach. I have to focus on finding an animal, preferably a deer, they taste good, but I keep getting flashbacks of earlier today. Of the coldness I suddenly felt, up there in my room, and this strange feeling, like there was a hook coming out of my stomach and someone was pulling on it when Simon and I were snatched. Of being here, in that same forest, in front of this carbon copy of a younger Simon, playing with that cursed ball he loved so much. Of Simon’s magic, like fire and electricity inside my body. Of the moment when he forced it back in his body. Of this boy, this incredibly brave, stupidly heroic boy, kneeling and pouring his magic into the Humdrum. Of how he looked when he fainted, the paleness of his face. 

I close my eyes, doing my best to chase those awful memories, and I take a deep breath, which makes me smell blood.

Good.

Maybe if the part of me craving it takes over, I can stop thinking. 

I look around, in the direction the smell of blood comes from, and I quickly spot a rabbit. Not what I was aiming for, a single rabbit isn’t enough when I feed, but it’ll have to do. I could always find another animal after.

I move discreetly, carefully, not making any sound until I’m close enough to the furry little thing to catch and sink my fangs in it. It squeals and moves around at first, but quickly, with it relaxes. 

Usually, I would have snapped its neck before I fed so that it wouldn’t have to go through the bite and die from the blood loss, but I want to try to bite without killing. I want to see if it’s possible. Simon says it is, and now I know that I can drink and stop, so I’m a bit more confident about _biting_ and stopping.

I try to keep my brain as functional as possible, even though drinking always makes it a bit confused, to focus on the moment the rabbit switches from relaxed to weak. That’s when I have to stop. That’s the limit, if I drink more after that, it won’t have enough blood to stay alive. 

When I feel the weight of it change in my arms, I summon all of my self control, and think of Simon’s voice, saying those words he’s repeated to me for weeks on end. ‘You’re not a monster, Baz.’.

Not a monster, not a monster, not a monster.

I take my fangs out of the rabbit’s skin. 

I want to bite it again. To finish it off. To drink _more._

I need so much more. The bloodlust is an inconvenience in general when I’m thirsty, but when I’ve started feeding, it’s unbearable unless I’ve had my fill.

Not a monster, not a monster, not a monster.

I let go of the rabbit, and run far from it, until I can’t smell its blood.

I did it.

I drank from something, with my _fangs_ and didn’t drain it.

_I fucking did it._

**…**

**Simon**

_I feel Baz tense behind me, even more when…_

_“No!”_

_The Humdrum lit a fire in his hand. Of course, he’s got my magic, I suppose that’s something he can do._

_“Don’t hurt him!” I shout, my heart hurting in my chest from how fast it beats._

_All I can think of are the ashes on the floor of Emmeline Hale’s house, this pile of ashes she became when the Mage made her go up in flames. I feel sick thinking about Baz…_

_Baz._

_I try calling all my magic back to me, but it won’t listen. I can feel it rushing to me, but it’s like it can’t cross the limit between my and Baz’s body._

_And then it truly can’t cross the limit between Baz has let go of my hand._

_No! Why is he doing that?!_

_“Baz!”_

_He shoots me a last, desperate glance before the flames in the Humdrum’s hand get too close to him…_

“Baz, no!”

I wake up with a jerk, my cheeks covered in tears and my heart pounding in my chest, so much I can feel it in my temples. 

Before I can even try to control it, I start sobbing. Loud, ugly, broken sounds escaping my lips as more and more tears fall down my face. I cling to my covers again, but not for warmth now, for comfort, holding them tight like it was Baz’s body I was hugging.

Baz.

Baz…

No, he didn’t.

It was just a dream.

Or was it?

What if it wasn’t.

What if that’s what happened and I just woke up after Daphne and Malcolm healed me? What if what I thought happened tonight was just an hallucination, a dream, and what I just saw was the truth.

I broke out in a cold sweat as I start crying even more. 

No, it’s not possible, Baz can’t be… He _can’t._ It was just a bloody nightmare.

But just to make sure…

I try to take deep breaths, to make my sobbing more controlled and much less loud, and then I’m on my way out of the room, wrapping my covers over me, both to keep me warm in that freezing fucking place and to have something to bite to muffle the sound of my sobs. I don’t want to wake up anyone, not even Baz. Especially not Baz. I just want to check that he’s okay and go back to my room. It’ll drive me crazy if I stay there not knowing what is true and what is only a dream.

Thankfully, I manage to walk to his room discreetly. Getting inside his room is more delicate. Baz has amazing hearing -vampire- but he’s also really hard to wake up when he’s sleeping deeply. 

I open the door as carefully as I can, squinting my eyes to see better, and when I make out the shape of his body on his bed, I let out a relieved sigh.

He’s okay.

He’s alive.

It was just a dream.

**…**

I can’t sleep again after that. 

Even if I was now sure that Baz was safe, every time I closed my eyes I could see flashes of my nightmare again and it was too painful. So I just stay in the room, trying to occupy myself until it’s late enough for all of the Grimms to be downstairs for breakfast. It’s easy to know when Malcolm, Daphne and the girls are because I can hear, but I can’t hear Baz, and he’s the one I want gone. I have to go get something in his room, and I don’t want to see him again for the first time after that all alone. I’ve gotten over my need to avoid him, but I need someone else’s presence when our eyes meet for the first time. 

I wait until 15 minutes after his Father went downstairs -that’s usually when Baz finally decides to leave his bed- and I sneak out of the room. When I arrive in his corridor, I see that the door is wide open. He only leaves it open when he isn’t there. 

So I walk in, and find the room empty, as expected. I quickly head to one of his wardrobe, looking for something that looks like it’s going to be comfy and keep me warm. My hands stop on a long, black cardigan, completely made of wool. It’s the softest thing I’ve ever touched, right after Baz’s skin. 

I take it out of the closet, and put it on. It’s much too large, but not excessively long, so I suppose it’s made to be baggy. That’s strange, Baz mostly wears form-fitting clothing. I mean, with a body like his, who wouldn’t.

I wrap the cardigan around myself -it has buttons, but it’s really large and I want it to be close to my body to keep me warm. That’s the whole point, after all. Keeping me warm. Because my magic doesn’t do that anymore. Because I don’t have magic anymore. 

I try to swallow the knot in my throat as I leave the room and head downstairs. 

The stone -bloody marble, I can’t believe rich people- of the stairs is freezing under my feet, even with socks on. 

Three gazes fall on me the moment I step in the kitchen. Grey, blue, and brown. Quickly enough, the little ones are staring too.

But I’m only looking at Baz. He has an uncertain look on his face, probably being apprehensive about what I’m going to do, but he says nonetheless, giving me the best smile he can despite his tension “Hello Simon.” Then he frowns. “What are you doing with my mother’s cardigan?”

His _mother’s_?

“You mother’s… I didn’t know sorry, it’s just… I was cold so I looked for something in your stuff, but uh, I’m gonna go change,” I say, already starting to turn around.

“No, no, no,” he says immediately. “Keep it, it’s fine. I was just surprised. It’s better on you than getting dusty on a hanger.” 

“Oh, okay.” My fingers tap on my ribs, where I’m holding one part of the cardigan against my side. “Can you… uh… come to the living room, please?”

I wanted people around when I saw him again. Now I want us to be alone. I need us to be alone. 

He’s up in half a heartbeat, walking as fast as he can without literally running. It’s endearing, but it makes my heart ache a little as well. I know he’s reacting like that because of how I rejected him yesterday. 

He closes the door between the two rooms behind us. When he’s close enough for me to do so, I put my arms around him, pulling him close, resting my head on his shoulder. I hear the pleased sigh that escapes his lips as his arms automatically close around me, strong and steady and _safe._

“I’m sorry for last night, I was awful to you.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers in my hair as he kisses it.

It’s obviously not. I hurt him, I know it. He probably thinks he isn’t allowed to feel hurt by my shitty behavior because of how difficult a situation I’m in, but that’s bullshit. 

“It’s okay if it’s not okay, Baz. I was a prick to you, it’s okay to be hurt.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts absentmindedly moving his hands on my back, rubbing slow, soft circles. 

“I just… I couldn’t handle… seeing you. Seeing anyone. I think I needed time alone… to, you know… process this. Without having you or your mum fussing over me.”

You mum. 

It slipped.

He doesn’t react when I say it, though, so I think he doesn’t mind. Malcolm calls Daphne his mother all the time, after all.

“And now, do you still need time alone?” he asks.

“I think so, yes. A bit. I’m… I’m gonna stay in the room. The other room, not yours. I’d rather… sleep alone for a moment, and just _be_ alone during the day as well. It’s… It’s really hard… not having my magic.”

My voice is already starting to falter. Dammit.

In that sweet voice he used to use when he helped me calm my magic down, he says “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I… There’s not much to say it’s just… I…” I feel tears spring to my eyes. “It’s awful, Baz. I feel so... empty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smiles innocently and goes hide*


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon!!! isn’t!!!!! avoiding Baz!!!!! (too much)!!!! anymore!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I had... an idea for later in the story, I can’t wait to get there *innocent smile*  
> Let’s just say Baz and Simon aren’t the only ones who suffer *innocent smile intensifies*

**Baz**

I feel my heart break as Simon starts crying quietly against my chest. I know he’s forcing himself to be quiet which makes it even worse. He probably doesn’t want my family to hear him sob. 

“It’s okay love, don’t hold back.”

He shakes his head vigorously. “Your family.”

So I was right, he doesn’t want them to hear. Bloody idiot. 

“Simon, if you knew how many times they heard _me_ cry, I’m pretty sure they can block out the sounds at this point. It’s okay,” I say again as I rub his back a bit less softly. 

I kiss his hair when I feel him bury his face deeper against my neck, so deep that when he finally lets go, sobs escaping his lips uncontrollably, they’re muffled by my shirt.

“I hate it so much, Baz,” he says. “I hate how it feels not having it. I’m so cold.”

Cold?

How is that relevant?

I frown, trying to slip one of my hands under the cardigan, and that’s when I feel it.

Even through his shirt, I can tell that his skin isn’t as warm as it used to be under my hand. 

Merlin.

So it was his magic that made his skin so hot?

**…**

**Simon**

My stomach drops when his hand touches me under the thick, warm layer of the cardigan.

Baz loved how warm _I_ was. 

And now I’m not anymore.

**…**

**Baz**

It’s logical, now that I think about it. Simon’s body heat was always too much, just like his magic was too much. And his magic smelled like smoke and made him glow. Like a fire, like the sun.

So it makes sense that it’d cause this warmth too. 

“Well, I’m cold all the time. I promise it’s possible to live like that,” I say, trying to joke.

Trying to distract him.

It has the opposite effect.

“I won’t be able to keep you warm now,” Simon says, his voice breaking at the end, like that little, insignificant thing is immensely horrific for him.

I move my hand up in his hair, stroking his curls lightly. “Hey, love, it’s nothing. Yes, your skin is a bit colder than you used to, but you’re still so warm compared to me. And it’s not like I only love you because you’re a nice personal heater.”

“But I don’t have my magic either.”

“And I don’t care about that either,” I tell him, my voice firm. I truly don’t. I couldn’t care less whether Simon had magic or not. “You’re magical in other ways. I don’t love you for those things, Simon. Crowley, your magic was more a deterrent than something that attracted me. It made you the Chosen One, and I bloody despised the Chosen One. He represented everything about you that kept us apart. It’s you I love, Simon. You, not your magic.”

He sniffs loudly. It should honestly gross me out more than it does. 

“Can… Can you…” he starts, and then he stops, and wriggles to make me understand he wants me to let go of him. 

I do, though reluctantly, and when I see his face, my heart breaks even more. It’s a mess of snot and tears, his eyes are puffed and as red as his cheeks and nose. He looks miserable.

He tilts his chin to show the couch. “Can you lie down?”

I’m a bit thrown off by the request, but I do it nonetheless. Snow isn’t really good at talking, so I suppose his actions will show me what he wants from me. And they do. 

The moment I’m settled on the sofa, on my back, he walks towards me, holding my mother’s cardigan close around his body. Once he’s close enough, I spread my legs a little, enough for him to put his between mine when he lays over me, his head on my chest. Our bodies aren’t completely aligned like that, and I’d like for his face to be closer to mine, but it isn’t about me. 

When he stops moving, I put my arms around his shoulders and put my feet flat on the sofa, bending my knees and locking Simon’s body where it is. I know it’s something he likes. He says it makes him feel safe.

For a few minutes, we stay like that, in silence, Simon breathing deeply through his nose to calm down. The room is so silent I can hear the exact moment Father stands from his chair in the dining room -it’s always Father first- quickly followed by the rest of the family as they head out of the room by the door that doesn’t lead to the living room. 

It’s mere seconds after that that I hear Simon whisper, “Tell me why you love me.”

He wants reassurance. At least I can give him that. Especially if what he’s asking of me are reasons why I love him. I could probably go on for the whole day.

“Do you want the whole file of reasons or a simplified version?” I ask with amusement in my voice.

I can feel him smile a little bit against my chest. “The simplified version is fine, I suppose.”

“Okay then,” I say as my fingers start going up and down his back absentmindedly. “I love you because, kind as you are, you gave me a chance when we were eleven. You held out your hand, and you gave me a smile, and you said you’d like to be friends. Of course I had to go and ruin it all, but that’s irrelevant.” That makes him chuckle. “I love you because you always give people chances. Your kindness and naive trust irritate me, sometimes, but truly, I admire that about you.”

“Admire? Wow, I never thought Baz Pitch would admire anything about me,” Snow teases.

“Hush, I admire lots of things about you.”

“Keep telling them, then.”

“I will if you hush.”

I can’t see it but I’m pretty sure he rolls his eyes.

“I love how passionate you are about everything,” I continue nonetheless, because he still needs to hear it. “You never do anything with moderation, it’s always all or nothing with you. You do everything so intensely, feel everything so deeply, I’m sure if I saw through your eyes, I’d see the world more colourful than I do. You live your life to the fullest. Like there was no yesterday and there won’t be a tomorrow. I love that, but sometimes it scares me because I’m afraid you truly believe there won’t be a tomorrow.”

“Sometimes I do,” he admits, his voice low. “It’s just… When you get in life-threatening situations so often, and you have something inside that feels like it could destroy you… It’s not hard imagining this day is the last.”

I feel a knot forming in my throat. He had such a bloody hard life, it’s so cruel.

“But now I don’t have magic and I’m not the Chosen One anymore, so I guess I won’t face imminent death as often,” he jokes bitterly. “Please keep going, Baz.”

Yeah, let’s do that love, that’s a much better idea.

“What else do I love about you…” I say, pretending to think about it as my hand loses itself in those bronze curls I adore. “I love how clumsy you are.”

He snorts. “Do you now?”

“Yes, it’s endearing. You’re always knocking things down or dropping your stuff or tripping on your own foot, and yet you’re so agile and graceful with that sword of yours, it’s…”

I stop when I realize what I’ve said.

The sword.

He lost his magic. He probably can’t summon it.

Fuck, the whole point was to make him not think about his magic!

I continue only a heartbeat after I stopped, as if I didn’t notice the way Simon tensed. “beautiful. It makes no sense, that you’d be such an oaf sometimes and yet be so skilled when it comes to certain things, but I think it’s cute. Speaking of the other things you’re skilled at…” I hope he knows I’m smirking. I lower my voice when I say, “I love how you make me feel when you fuck me. Like I’m the most precious thing in the world to you. You make me feel special and loved. It’s wonderful.”

“That’s because you’re special. And I love you.”

My hand tightens in his hair. Merlin, this boy. Only an hour ago I was terrified he’d break up with me, and now he’s telling me he loves me. 

“I love you too. Do you want to hear other reasons? I still have many.”

So many. 

He shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine now. Thank you, for… saying all this.”

“I meant it. Every bit of it.”

He moves his head to press a kiss on my chest, right over my heart. Right where his cheek was, mere seconds ago. Then, he rests his head on me again, but this time, he’s looking at me. He’s surely not seeing me from my best angle, and his chin is sinking uncomfortably on my sternum, but I’ll be damned if I asked him to move. “I’ll need you to drive me to London.”

Well, that’s one way to change the topic, I suppose.

“London?” I repeat, frowning. “Why?”

“To tell Penny about… you know… my magic,” he answers, looking away from me.

I resume my ministration on his hair. “You don’t have to, actually. I called Bunce yesterday and I explained everything to her. If you want to see her, I can drive you of course, but if you just want to go to tell her what happened, well, there’s no point.”

Relief washes over his face. I shouldn’t be as satisfied by that as I am, but it would have felt awful if he had went to see Bunce while he told _me_ he still needed alone time so in a way, I’m relieved too.

“Yeah, I’m gonna stay here then. If I go see her she’ll ask a million questions and start babying me and feeling sorry for me and as I’ve told you, that’s the last thing I want. I… I think I want to go back to my room, now, actually.”

I’d like to be happy about the time we just had together, but my heart hurts at how quickly he got tired of being with me.

“It’s not you Baz,” he says, as if he could read my mind. “It’s me, _I_ need to be alone. You did nothing wrong, I promise, you’re being so amazing to me. I’m grateful. And, uh, actually, I… It’s probably a weird request, but, uh… Do you have… an old phone of yours? That still works?”

Where’s he going with this.

“A phone? Well, yes, I’ve kept my old phones, but why on earth would you want to know that?”

“Could you give me one? It’s… It’s hard to talk, as you know, and I need to be alone, but, well, yesterday I still… I still needed you I just… I couldn’t bear to _be_ with you, and I thought that if, you know, I could text you or something… it’d be nice.”

It’s not a bad idea, actually. I’d feel so much lighter if Simon didn’t completely shut me out. If he still had a way to communicate with me, if he needed to, and if _I_ still had a way to communicate with him, a way that’s easier for him than speaking.

I give him a smile as my hands let go of him and I lower my legs, making him understand that it’s time for him to get off of me. He does.

“I’m going to go get that,” I tell him as I stand up too. “Do you want to come with me or would you rather go back to your room now?”

Your room. I don’t really like the ring it has. But it’s what Simon needs. That matters more than my hurt feelings.

“I’d like to go to my room, yeah,” he says, looking a bit embarrassed.

“It’s fine. I’ll bring it to you. Can I have a kiss before you go, though?”

He smiles faintly, and then gets on his tiptoes to peck my lips.

**…**

It takes some time to find my old phones and choose one for Snow. I’d give him the most recent, but I can already hear him say something about the phone being expensive and me not using it. As I’m still trying to decide, my eyes fall on another item in the box. My tablet. I never use it, I have my phone and laptop, I don’t need more. It might be better for Snow than the phone, though. It’s got a bigger screen, he could watch stuff on it. He really enjoys watching shows. 

Taking the tablet in hand, I head out to Simon’s room. He answers immediately when I knock.

He’s sitting on the bed, his legs crossed, still wearing my mother’s cardigan, but he lets it hang this time instead of holding it close to himself. It looks lovely on him, even if black isn’t his colour at all. It’s too dark and sad a colour for Simon.

“That’s not a phone,” he says, pointing at the tablet that I just dropped next to him.

“Brilliant remark, love,” I answer with a roll of my eyes as I sit next to him, not too close so that he won’t feel stifled. “I can’t give you a sim card, so whether you use a phone or a tablet, it’s the same. I thought the tablet would be better since it’s bigger. I’m just going to connect it to the wifi, and then we can deal with the apps you want to have on it.”

“I mean, I just want to be able to contact you.”

“But you could do other things. I can download netflix, so you can watch stuff on your own. Or youtube, for videos. And to contact me, as you say, I think I should create you an instagram account. That way you can talk to me and actually do something on the app besides talking to me, and you don’t need a phone number. Besides, I’ve seen you check instagram on my phone, so I suppose you wouldn’t mind having your own account.”

In a very Snow way, he shrugs. “Yeah that sounds nice.”

Since it ‘sounds nice’, I spend the next thirty minutes teaching my clueless boyfriend about social media and all of the things you could do with just a tablet and an internet connection.

**…**

**Simon**

That thing’s bloody wicked.

I was so busy looking for games to play and scrolling through instagram -mostly through Baz’s feed and following, I must admit- that I didn’t even see the time between when Baz left and when I was called for lunch pass.

Then after lunch, I kept having my fun with the tablet, watching an episode of a show Baz wasn’t interested in watching and sending him heart emojis he answered with “You’re disgusting, Snow.”. Capital letter and punctuation. I didn’t know people texted like they’d write an essay, but I guess I can’t be surprised Baz does. Bloody posh prick.

[3:27 p.m.] : **baz**

[3:27 p.m.] : _What is it?_

[3:28 p.m.] : **i love this thing, i just saw a video it was so cute**

[3:28 p.m.] : **puppies baz, the video had puppies**

[3:28 p.m.] : Glad you’re enjoying yourself. How are you feeling?

[3:28 p.m.] : **…did you have to**

[3:28 p.m.] : _What? Ask if you’re okay? Yes._

[3:29 p.m.] : **let’s say that thing is distracting**

[3:29 p.m.] : _You can’t avoid all of your problems with distractions, Simon. I know it’s upsetting, but it will hurt you even more if you pretend to ignore it._

[3:30 p.m.] : **basil you’re my boyfriend not my therapist leave me alone**

[3:30 p.m.] : _I’m serious._

[3:30 p.m.] : **i’m not replying to you anymore**

[3:30 p.m.] : _Simon._

[3:31 p.m.] : **i can’t see your message i’m too busy watching cute puppies**

[3:31 p.m.] : _You’re insufferable._

[3:31 p.m.] : **i love you too 😘😘😘😍😍😍❤️❤️❤️**

[3:31 p.m.] : _Aleister Crowley, I should have never given you that bloody tablet._

**…**

[7:30 p.m.] **do you think your mum will let me have dinner in my room if i ask?**

[7:32 p.m] _I’m on my way downstairs. Do you want me to bring you dinner?_

[7:32 p.m.] **please. but please don’t stay with me. i want to be alone.**

[7:33 p.m.] _As you wish._

**…**

There’s a knock at the door. “Room service.”

I can’t even answer him before he opens the door, a tray, probably the same as the one he used when he ate in his own room, in his hands.

It feels so unreal, when I think about it. Baz Pitch taking care of me. Letting me stay in his house and wear his mother’s cardigan and serving me food because I don’t want to go downstairs. Baz Pitch putting a tray down on my lap and giving me a sweet smile that makes my heart ache as he does. Baz Pitch leaning in to kiss my forehead before heading out, because I told him I wanted to be alone. 

Baz Pitch telling me he loves me as he walks out of the door, and sounding so sincere when he says it that I have to believe it.

**…**

[2:09 a.m.] **baz are you asleep?**

[2:10 a.m] _No. Why aren’t you?_

[2:10 a.m.] **can’t sleep. can i come cuddle you? i’ll go back to my room after, but i could really use a hug right now if you don’t mind**

[2:10 a.m.] _Come on, then. Don’t wake anyone up on your way here._


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm has some news from the Coven to share

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really not having a good day today and I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to get a chapter ready for tonight?? because I spent so much time doing nothing?? but I somehow still managed to write this?? so that’s nice I guess??

**Baz**

Monday is just like Sunday. Simon mostly stays in his room -I really hate how that sounds, _his_ room- and occasionally texts me throughout the morning and the beginning of the afternoon. He doesn’t come down for lunch like he did yesterday though, but when I come to collect his plate after he’s done eating, it’s empty, so it’s what truly matters I suppose. The fact that he’s still eating.

When it gets really bad for me, I completely lose appetite. I was afraid it might be the same for Simon, who, unlike me, can’t afford to go several days without eating without it having bad consequences on his body. A drawback of being a person, I suppose. 

But I still don’t know how he’s doing and it’s killing me. He won’t tell me. He changes the topic, or simply stops answering when I try to get him to talk to me. It’s worrying me. He went through something so traumatic and he refuses to even talk about it, it can’t be good for him. I would know, I’m very good at handling difficult situations in the worst possible way. 

I think Daphne has tried to have a chat with him too, because he texted me to say that she came to his room, but I don’t think she managed to make him talk either because she didn’t tell me anything. 

So basically, he spends the whole day inside his room, pretending nothing happened.

Well, he does that until my father comes back from London and calls us both downstairs.

**...**

Simon shoots me a confused glance when we meet each other on the stairs. “What’s happening? Why is your dad calling us?”

He’s still wearing my mother’s cardigan. I don’t get why he wouldn’t just put one of his jumpers on. It’d be better, he wouldn’t have to hold it close like he does with the cardigan. 

“I don’t know it any more than you do,” I tell him as we reach the bottom of the stairs. 

I want to touch him. To put my hand around his waist or to hold his. But we’re going to see Father, so I don’t. 

We turn right to get inside the office, and I thank my vampirism for my inability to flush easily. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to come into my father’s office without thinking of the time Simon and I had sex here. The bloody nightmare really left a long lasting impression, didn’t he?

I look at him from the corner of my eye, and when our eyes meet, he gives me a smirk. 

Motherfucker. He’s thinking about it too. 

**…**

**Simon**

Fucking Baz in his dad’s office is definitely the best thing I’ve ever done. He looks so flustered right now, it’s brilliant. 

**…**

**Baz**

We sit down on the chairs Father set there for us, and then we’re both looking at him expectantly. I know he was away to meet the Coven today, Daphne said so at lunch, but since Simon didn’t have lunch with us I don’t think he’s aware of that.

My father clears his throat. “I had a meeting with the Coven today.” 

I see Snow tense. So he didn’t know.

“I have taken it upon myself to tell them what happened on Saturday evening, since I considered it was better than driving you to London to tell them yourself, Simon,” he says, looking at Snow, and only him. I’m pretty sure it’s making Simon uncomfortable. He isn’t very fond of direct eye contact and I know my father intimidates him, even if things are better between them now, so much so that Father calls him by his name and not Mr Snow anymore. “I assume you wouldn’t be comfortable explaining it to them, so I told them that you were unwell and couldn’t come tell them in the flesh, and that they had to make do with what I said.”

That’s unexpectedly thoughtful of my father. 

“Oh,” Simon answers, as eloquent as ever. “Well, er, thank you that’s… that’s very nice.”

He’s a complete disaster.

There’s an amused look in my father’s eyes. I still can’t believe how quickly Simon got Father to like him. I mean, I knew that his clumsiness and awkwardness were endearing, I find them quite adorable myself, but I didn’t think it would have an effect on my father. 

“Of course. That’s only one thing, though. The second thing concerns you,” Father says, now looking at me. 

Concerns me? The last time he said something that had to do with the Coven concerned me I ended up facing the High Court. Let’s just say I’m not very at ease right now. 

“What is it?” I ask, my voice serious.

“The Coven has chosen the new Headmaster of Watford. Well, in this case, Headmistress. It’s Mitali Bunce. And since now there is someone designated to be in charge and we don’t want the school to stay close for too long, especially for students in Eight Year who are graduating, Watfor will open on Monday. All students will receive a letter telling them that they have to move back to their room this weekend.”

My stomach drops.

This weekend.

In 5 days.

6 at best, if I go on Sunday.

6 days.

Only 6 left days with Simon if I decide to go.

It’s my eight year, I’m over the age of majority, I don’t have any real obligation to go back to school. 

I _could_ stay here with Snow.

“Are you going to go?” he asks me, as if my thinking about it made him want to open his mouth. He doesn’t sound afraid or apprehensive, though. It’s just a question, as if he was asking me what the weather was like today.

“I don’t know,” I answer, because I truly don’t.

I want to go back. I like school, and it’s important for me to graduate. I don’t intend on being the first Pitch in the history of my family to drop out of Warford. Even _Fiona_ finished her eighth year. Admittedly, she was doing more boys than schoolwork that year, but she still went and graduated with decent grades. 

But at the same time…

At the same time, Simon won’t go back, and I’ve already experienced Watford without Simon Snow’s presence in my room. It wasn’t great. It was fucking awful, really. And even if he doesn’t seem to want me anywhere near him, I’m sure he might still need me to help him deal with the loss of his magic. 

“Why wouldn’t you go back?” Simon asks, frowning.

Can’t the bloody idiot think of _one_ reason why I wouldn’t want to go back? Aleister Crowley.

“Because you’re here? And you can’t go back? And I don’t know, maybe because you might like to have your boyfriend around while you’re going through what you’re going through right now?” I say, sounding maybe a bit more bitter than I should.

What if the reason why Simon is wondering why I wouldn’t go back is because he _wants_ me to go back? What if he’d be better here without me than with me?

“But school is important for you,” he answers sheepishly, with the same voice as Mordelia when she tries to justify herself after being told off.

“So are you, you bloody moron. Anyway, we’ll talk about this later.” 

I’d rather not argue with Snow in front of my father. My father, who’s still here and still looking at us, which probably means he has more to tell us. He’d have left the minute he was done and Simon and I started talking to one another otherwise. 

So I turn back to him. “Is there anything else?”

“There is, indeed. It might be a bit more… delicate.”

I frown. “It’s about Simon again, isn’t it?”

Father wouldn’t look so uncomfortable if it had to do with me. My reactions to difficult news aren’t as extreme as Simon’s. 

“It is, indeed. As you both know, Miss Penelope Bunce is currently in possession of David Evans’s journals, which she read. She shared some of the information she found in them to her mother. The fact that he was Simon’s father, for instance, which Mitali reported to the Coven. In light of those information and of the fact that David won’t ever get out of prison, the Coven has decided to leave Simon his belongings, namely his fortune, quite considerable for a man who constantly tried to steal ours, and the rest of his possessions, which are stocked in a cottage he owns in Wales.”

A cottage in Wales?

Is that where Snow was born? It must be, if it’s the only property the Mage owned. 

When I glance at Simon, I see that his eyes have widened. I don’t know if it’s from hearing about the Mage, his father, or about the inheritance, or both, but he’s definitely shocked.

Trying not to think about my own father being right there in the room, I reach out and take Simon’s hand. It’s still difficult touching him when Father is around, but I can manage it, if it can help him, and touch usually does just that. 

“Simon. Are you okay, love?” I whisper softly.

Soon enough, I’m drowning in the ordinary blue of his eyes. 

“It’s a lot,” he admits with a nervous laugh. “I was kind of enjoying not having to think about the fact that I’m related to the Mage.”

Ah, yes, Simon and his _incredible_ way of simply not thinking about it when he doesn’t like something. At first I was a bit jealous that he was able to keep himself from thinking about upsetting things, but now I’m starting to realize that maybe avoiding them is just as bad as having them on your mind all the time. 

“I’m sorry. But, you know, try to see the bright side of this. You have a house now, and money, it’s not something you’ll have to worry about anymore, and you won’t have to feel uncomfortable about me spending my money to buy you things. That’s good, isn’t it?”

It’s strange, being the positive one in this relationship.

“Well spending the Mage’s money is still spending someone else’s money.”

I don’t really understand what Simon’s big deal with money is, to be honest. I know that we obviously don’t see money the same way because he grew up without it and I’ll always have more than I could ever spend, but I don’t understand why it embarrasses him so much to spend money that he doesn’t consider his. Getting him to let me buy him clothes -which was something he _needed_ \- was so complicated, it’s truly confusing to me. I’d understand him not wanting to spend money for something very expensive and that he’d consider of no use, but if it’s a necessity, or simply something that could be useful, what’s the problem?

“I’d say you’ve well earned the right to use his money, after everything he did to you,” I say, trying to find reasons that’ll convince Simon it isn’t bad to use the money he inherited. “And even if you don’t like it, he is your father. If he had been a decent one and had raised you, he would have spent that money for you anyway. Thousands and thousands of pounds spent over the years in food and clothes and toys. You can consider it payback for all the years he did not provide you with what you needed, if it makes you feel better.”

I’m not sure it makes him feel better. He has this stubborn look on his face that makes me think I’ve said all of this.

“There’s no point talking about money with you,” he mumbles, looking away from me to focus on my father instead. “Is there something else we should know?”

Father shakes his head. “No. I think it’s more than enough already. You can go. But wait, one last thing before you. Basil, I would very much appreciate it if you could tell me or your mother whether or not you’re going to Watford as soon as you take your decision. We’re obviously fine with whatever you choose to do, but keep us updated.”

I’m not sure it’s exactly true that Father would be fine with it if I chose to drop out, but I don't comment on that. There’s no point trying to antagonize my father, not when he’s so very clearly trying to make things better between us. Has been for a few weeks now. Since Simon and I came here after the school closed, truly. I don’t know if it’s Daphne’s doing or if he had some sort of epiphany reminding him that he had a son, but it’s rather enjoyable, not constantly feeling like my father is judging my every move. Not constantly feeling like I’m nothing but a disappointment to him. 

“I will,” I answer, nodding. Then, to Simon. “Come on, now.”

**…**

**Simon**

Baz drags me to his room. I know it’s just to talk about him going back to Watford or not, but it causes a shiver to run down my spine, and not the good kind. Not the kind of shivers I usually get at the thought of being in Baz’s room. 

I don’t know why, but it feels… scary, being alone with Baz. Yesterday when I hugged him in the living room, it felt good, and then it didn’t. When I cuddled in bed with him, it felt good until he put his hands on my back and not just in my hair. Having him hold my hand right now, it feels the same. In his father’s office it was good, it comforted me, like it normally does. Now it feels like he has a hold on me and I can’t escape. It feels like being trapped. 

I try not to look relieved when he lets go of my hand to get on the bed. I follow him there, sitting close but not that close. 

“So,” I say, because it’s better than silence.

“So what do you think?” he answers. “Do you want me to stay here or are you alright with me going back to school? I don’t care either way. I’d be glad to go, and I’d be glad to stay.”

He knows I don’t like making decisions. Why is he asking me to make such a big decision?

“Baz. School matters to you, I don’t want you to feel forced to give up on Watford because I can’t go back there.”

He’s the biggest nerd I know, probably an even bigger one than Penny. He’s always thriving at school, like he feels _good_ there, like it’s not the most stressful place in the world. 

I guess it’s not when you’re smart enough to have perfect grades all the time without having breakdowns trying to get them.

I’ve seen him do his homework. It’s kind of scary honestly. He just sits there, and he writes and writes and writes, sometimes for hours on end, as if he already knows everything and he just has to put it on the paper. He doesn’t seem to have a single doubt. 

And he’s complained that the syllabus was too easy multiple times. Arrogant prick.

It’d be such wasted potential if he didn’t finish his year. 

“I wouldn’t feel forced, Simon. I’m asking for your opinion because you matter more to me than finishing my bloody year. Sure, I would like to if you were fine with it. But if you’re not it’s not a big deal. I just want to know if you’re okay with us being apart or if you need or want me to be with you.”

To be honest I’m not sure I need him to be with me. Physically, at least. I mean, I’m more comfortable with chatting on instagram than with being in the same room as him at the moment, so I suppose it wouldn’t be too hard for me if I could still text him. That way he’d still be here, but his presence wouldn’t feel so… stifling.

I tell him that.

Well, not all of it.

Just the part about being fine with him leaving as long as we can keep talking through instagram. 

He nods. I don’t think he seems hurt or disappointed, so I suppose I chose my words well, for once.

“Okay then, I’ll go. But I’ll come back on the weekends. Maybe not all the weekends because I’ll still have schoolwork to do, but one weekend out of two. How does that sound?”

I feel a smile grow on my lips. “That sounds good.”

“Perfect. But if you change your mind about me going to Watford over the course of the week, tell me, okay love? I don’t want to leave if it makes you feel worse. I don’t want to be another problem on your mind.”

“You’re not a problem. And I don’t think I’ll change my mind. Besides,” I say, making my voice sound a little more teasing. “How could I brag about the fact that my brilliant boyfriend is the best in his year if you don’t go back, huh?”

He gives me an exaggeratedly offended look, putting his hand over his heart. It makes me giggle. “Merlin and Morgana, Simon, what is Bunce going to think if she finds out you said I was the best in our year?”

“Oh, she knows! When she starts being too annoying about school, I remind her that you get better grades than her. It shuts her up.”

He smiles, clearly amused but with a hint of pride in his expression, and I feel my heart melt a little bit. He’s so fucking beautiful. 

“Wow, I had no idea you could be so cruel to your best friend, who would have thought.”

“It’s not being cruel, it’s the truth. You _do_ get better grades than her.”

“As flattering as it is to hear you say it, I think it’s mostly because she spent the past 7 years babysitting you and making sure you don’t die.”

Good point.

I was a lot of work for Penny. Was. That’s the key word here.

“Well now that she doesn’t have to keep me from certain death, I suppose we’ll see which of you is truly the best, won’t we?”

“Yes, I guess we will,” he says with one those arrogant smirks of his. 

They used to make me want to punch him. Now they just take my breath away. 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a fight, sorry

**Baz**

“Do you want to talk about something else?”

Anything else. As long as he  _ talks  _ to me. 

He groans. “No.”

Well, that was to be expected. 

“Simon… Please be reasonable. You can’t keep everything to yourself. You’ve barely told me how you felt about the Mage being your father, and you haven’t said anything about losing your magic. It’s not good for you.”

From a little bit annoyed, his eyes turn irritated. I hate it. Those blue eyes of his look cold so easily as soon as they’re not lit up by positive emotions. 

“Just give me some time, okay?,” he says as he shifts, sitting a tad further away from me. “Why do you have to… to pressure me to talk to you like that.”

I sigh. I don’t want to be arguing with him. I don’t know when he’s going to go back to his room, but it’ll probably be soon, and I don’t want the last minutes we spend together to be spent fighting. 

I reach out with my hand to put it on his thigh. He draws his leg up, keeping his knee close to his chest, which incidentally keeps it away from my touch. 

It stings a bit. 

“I simply don’t want you to cause yourself more harm by not opening up. It’s not healthy not to share your thoughts to someone. Even if it’s not me, Simon. I… Sure, I would prefer if you talked to me, but if you’re more comfortable opening up to someone else, you should talk to them.”

He sneers. He learnt that from me. It’s a terrible look on him. “Yeah, because you know a lot about what is a healthy way to deal with the shit you have going on and what isn’t, uh?” he says, with a biting voice, his eyes flicking to my arms, making the meaning of his words abundantly clear.

I immediately move my arms, instinctively turning my forearms towards my chest even though they’re covered and I don’t have scars anyway. I feel mildly sick.

I talked to Simon about this because I trusted him, because I wanted him to know me, truly, all of me, even the ugly and shameful parts. I laid my heart in front of him, I let myself be vulnerable, so vulnerable, telling him about the darkest times of my life, about when I hit rock bottom.

And he’s using it against me because I pissed him off.

It hurts more than it should. 

I want to answer something just as low, and Merlin knows I know exactly what to say to make hurt write itself on his face instead of irritation, but I’m petrified. It’s like I can’t get the words out of my mouth. Instead, all I can say is “This isn’t about me.”

“Exactly. It’s not about you. So keep your opinion to yourself, I didn’t fucking ask. If I want to hear your great speeches about what’s ‘good for me’, I’ll let you know,” he says, his voice as cold as his eyes were, as he gets out of bed, not even granting me a single glance when he walks out.

The last thing I get from him is the slam of the door. 

**…**

**Simon**

I’m still fuming when I get under my covers. 

I don’t know who I’m angrier at, Baz for pushing me to talk to him  _ again  _ even though he knows I don’t want to, or myself for the things I said.

Definitely myself.

I was a prick to him when he was just trying to help. It was so cruel of me to bring up what he did to himself but it’s like I couldn’t control what I was saying, I was just so fucking mad at him.

See this is why I shouldn’t  _ talk  _ to Baz. When we text, I can think of what I’m going to write before I send it, I can reread it, change it. When we’re face to face, the words just get out and I have to face the consequences.

What really irritates me is that we were having a relatively good time, we were even joking around a bit, and he had to go and ruin it. It makes me even more annoyed considering we don’t have much time left together. When I’m comfortable enough being in the same room as Baz, I’d like to be able to go back to my room afterwards with a smile on my face, not feeling sick to my stomach. 

Why can’t he just understand that I don’t want to talk about it, for God’s sake!  _ He  _ never talks about the things that hurt him, except when  _ he  _ decides to, so why can’t he let me do the same? Besides he  _ knows  _ that that’s how I work so he shouldn’t fucking keep pushing me like that! And then he’s surprised that I’d rather be in my room than with him in his!

I grab one of the pillows above my head and bury my face into it.

And then I scream.

I hate this so fucking much.

**…**

I don’t know how long I’ve been here, holding the covers, screaming into my pillow, wiping my tears with the sleeves of the cardigan when I receive a notification on the tablet.

That unpleasant feeling in my stomach comes back when I see Baz’s name on the screen. 

[7:28 p.m.] _ I’m going downstairs for dinner. Are you coming or do you want your plate brought to you? _

I don’t answer. I’m not in the mood for dinner right now. 

A few minutes later, another buzzing sound.

[7:34 p.m.] _ I know that you’re angry with me but please answer. It doesn’t have to be me, Vera can bring you your dinner. Or Daphne if you’d like to see her. Anyone, really. I just want you to eat. _

**…**

**Baz**

He doesn’t answer. 

Daphne is casting worried glances at me. My eyes aren’t as bloodshot as they were an hour ago, but I’m sure it’s still obvious on my face that I have cried. And I haven’t touched a single thing on my plate. I’m not hungry. I  _ can’t _ be hungry when Snow won’t talk to me,  _ or  _ answer my bloody messages. 

“Mother,” I say, looking at Daphne, catching  _ her  _ looking at  _ me.  _ “Do you think you could save a plate for Simon? Maybe bring it to him as well? He isn’t answering but we had… an argument so it may be why. I would still like him to eat something.”

Her worried expression intensifies. 

“Sure, honey. But I would like  _ you _ to eat something first.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Simon probably isn’t either, and yet you want him to eat.”

Using my worry for Simon to make me take care of myself. That’s low. Definitely something Daphne would do, though.

“Snow is always hungry. It’s not the same thing.”

“Still. Eat Baz. Please,” she adds softly. 

That woman has awful manipulation skills. She shouldn’t be allowed to guilt trip me into eating like that by looking all concerned. It’s not fair. 

Maybe Fiona was right and Daphne should have  _ just  _ been my father’s wife. She wouldn’t be able to play tricks on me like that if I didn’t love her. 

Clearly showing my annoyance, I take my fork and bring some food to my mouth. Daphne gives me a smug smile when I swallow.

I despise her.

“I’ll go see Simon right after dinner,” she informs me before she starts eating again.

Ok, maybe I don’t despise her. 

**…**

**Simon**

I hear knocking on the door.

Crowley can’t he fucking leave me alone. He really never understands, does he?

“Go away, Baz,” I groan, my face still buried in my pillow. 

It muffles my voice, but he has his vampire senses. He can hear me anyway.

Apparently he can’t, or decides to ignore me, because the door opens.

Bloody hell!

I sit up in a jerk, the pillow falling on my lap, and I see… Daphne. With a tray in her hands. Well, at least it’s not Baz, so it’s not so bad, I guess. 

She gives me a smile. “Can I come sit near you?”

No.

“Yes,” I say as I sit a bit better myself, my back against the headboard and my hands on my lap, over the pillow. 

Daphne’s smile gets sad when she’s close enough to really see my face. She can probably tell I’ve cried.

She sits next to me on the bed, where Baz would be if I was in his room, in his bed, and sets the tray between us. That’s good. There’s a distance. She isn’t directly touching me.

I could probably handle Daphne touching me better than I do Baz touching me, but still. 

“I brought you dinner. We had salmon so that’s why you only have potatoes and vegetables.”

Salmon is one of the few things I can’t bring myself to eat. I’m not usually picky with food, as long as I have enough on my plate for my stomach not to hurt, I’m happy, but there are a few things that I find really too gross. I’d eat it if someone really insisted, but Baz said I don’t have to force myself to eat food I don’t like. 

“Thank you. I’m not sure I’ll eat though, I’m not very hungry.”

“It’s okay if you don’t eat this one time, but don’t skip two meals in a row, okay? And if you don’t eat this now and it turns too cold to eat, or if you simply would rather eat something else, you know your way to the kitchen. You can take whatever you want there.  _ Whatever _ you want, Simon,” she adds immediately, looking at me seriously. “That means you can open packets that aren’t open or take the last of something. It doesn’t matter.”

I think Daphne understands the weird ways in which my brain works more than Baz does. He wouldn’t have thought for a second that I might be embarrassed opening something new or finishing something. Just like he didn’t think it’d be a problem for me to watch him spend his money to buy me things. 

I nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, I would like to ask you some questions. Are you okay with that or do you want me to leave?”

I shrug. “I’ll tell you that after you ask.”

“Fine, then. Baz mentioned that the two of you had an argument. Can you tell me why? I didn’t want to ask him because the girls and Malcolm were in the same room as us, and he went back to his own room before I could even ask. 

She could have gone to Baz’s room. But she decided to ask me. 

Part of me wants to tell her I don’t want to answer. The other part of me is already answering. See, no control over what gets out of my stupid mouth.

“It’s just that he… he understands that I need space, and I’m glad that he does because if he showed up here all the time it’d drive me mad. But there’s something that he doesn’t understand, and it’s that I don’t want to talk about what happened. About… the loss of my magic. And I  _ know _ that he means well but he’s just so… he gets on my nerves. He’s always, always,  _ always  _ bringing it up. I can’t have a single conversation with him without him trying to make me talk about it, but I  _ can’t _ talk about it, not now, it’s still too soon. I… right now what I need is to find a way to  _ not  _ think about the fact that I don’t have magic anymore and it’s already so hard because I’m constantly reminded of it and Baz just makes it worse with all of his questions and… yeah. So that’s why we argued. I was… He tried to make me talk, and it was the last straw. I snapped at him, which I probably shouldn’t have because I said mean things to him that I regret, but I still did and then I left his room.”

I feel so guilty for what I told Baz. It was such a low blow, the kind of thing  _ he  _ could have said when we used to fight. 

Daphne shifts, reaching out with her hand to put it on my shoulder. I shrug it off, and she lets her hand fall back on the bed. 

“Have you tried telling Baz all of this? That you need some time?”

“Yes I did! That’s the thing, it’s one of the first things I told him before we started arguing! I asked him to give me time but quite evidently, he doesn’t want to. He thinks he knows better than I do what’s good for me but he  _ doesn’t.  _ And it’s making me so mad because he’s going back to Watford soon and I don’t want to ruin the few moment we have left together with arguments and difficult conversations, I just want to spend time with him like we did since we came here after the school closed.”

I look down as I say that, fidgeting with my fingers, twisting the sleeve of the cardigan or digging my nails in the skin of the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t exactly about what you said, but Baz is going back to Watford? He didn’t tell us he had made a decision,” Daphne says. 

“Well, he has. I told him I thought it was better if he went back, so that’s what he’s going to do. He would probably have told you sooner or later. I would like to be alone now, if you don’t mind,” I add after a few seconds. 

I don’t want to be rude but I feel so drained from saying all of this, I need her to go.

Thankfully, she doesn’t argue. “Okay. Good night, honey.”

I smile faintly. “Good night, Daphne.”

**…**

I don’t have a good night.

I get woken up with cold sweats by a nightmare. Yet another bloody nightmare.

I didn’t miss those, that’s for sure

I used to have them often, especially in the summers when I wasn’t a Watford. It was always better during the school year, maybe because I was in a better environment, even though back then I surely wouldn’t have considered the room I share with Baz Pitch a  _ good  _ environment. It was simply not as bad as being with a bunch of other blokes I don’t know and who would bully me if I wasn’t so good at throwing punches. 

I was so delusional. Being in a room with Baz felt good, even if I complained about it a lot. His presence was a comfort even before I realized I loved him. 

The way he smells, cedar and bergamot because of those silly posh products of his. The way he breathes, slowly, too slowly, but heavily enough for me to hear it, partly because of his soft snoring. He would deny the fact that he snores in any way, shape or form, of course, but he does. The way he pulls the covers so high up his body that his eyes are the only part of his face I can really make out. The way he tosses and turns when he tries to fall asleep, but stops moving completely once he is. The way he mumbles words in his sleep, when he’s dreaming. The way his breathing catches, right before he wakes up. 

It’s all so familiar. Has been for years, or has become over the weeks we spent sharing a bed.

And tonight, of course, none of those familiar things are here to keep me grounded when I open my eyes, looking around like a madman. It’s like I’m so used to seeing him somewhere in my room that my eyes instinctively look for him. 

I focus them on a specific thing since I can’t focus them on Baz ; the door handle, that reflects a little bit of the moonlight that shines through the window. It’s lovely, it makes it appear a pretty shade of grey. 

I keep my eyes on it as I breathe deeply to calm the crazy rhythm of my heartbeat. 

That nightmare was a terrible one. 

The problem is, since that first nightmare I had on the night I lost my magic, I have nightmares whenever I sleep. I had one that night. Two yesterday night. One tonight. All about different things. It’s like having one triggered all of my fears to come to me in dreams. 

Tonight, it was the horrific blend of a nightmare about the Mage, and a nightmare where Baz dies. 

The Mage killed him.

With fire, like he killed Emmeline Hale. And just like with Emmeline Hale, there was nothing I could do as Baz went up in flames while the Mage laughed like a maniac. I woke up when he put his hand on my shoulder and said “See, son…”. I didn’t hear the rest of what the Mage in my nightmare said. I’m glad I haven’t. My brain is very good at creating terrifying scenarios.

At least, I know that it was just that. A scenario my brain made up. Because in real life, Baz is safe in his house, and the Mage is locked up for his crimes. He can’t hurt Baz. 

No one can hurt Baz. He’s so strong and powerful, more than anyone else. Even  _ I  _ could never really hurt him, despite trying my best to do so for years. The closer I ever got to hurting him was when I broke his nose.

So really, if I, Simon Snow, the time bomb, couldn’t hurt him, no one can. 

Well, no one can hurt him  _ physically. _

His feelings can be hurt. Easily. I would know that.

This guilt I’ve felt since we had our fight comes back, and I see him hiding his arms from me again before my eyes as if he was really there and really doing it. 

I’ve been such a fucking arsehole to him.

A bit hesitantly, I grab the tablet. The sudden explosion of light makes my eyes water, and I blink repeatedly until I can open my eyes again, having lowered the brightness. I click on instagram, and then, on my conversation with Baz. My fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment, before I decide to just type and send it. I’ve barely hit send that I’m putting the tablet away again, making sure it’s in silent mode. It’s late, but not so late, so Baz might still be awake and I don’t want to see his answer. 

Or worse, his lack of answer. 

**…**

**Baz**

I’m starting to doze off in front of the movie I’m watching when my phone buzzes. There aren’t many people who would text me that late, and Simon is mad at me, so I suppose Aunt Fi is drunk. 

It’s not Fiona.

[2:26 a.m.]  **I’m sorry for what I said about… you know. I was angry and I didn’t think. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I know it’s annoying but I would really appreciate if you could comment, I have been quite low on comments lately and it makes me feel kind of discouraged because I don’t know if people are still liking my story :(
> 
> That being said, I’m very thankful to the people who always comment, you guys are amazing djdjdjjd I find it so heartwarming when I see usernames every time I post ^^


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz and Simon spend time together!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments on yesterday’s chapter, I really needed that <3  
> You’ve been nice to me so you get a chapter where they don’t fight, as a treat ;)  
> Just kidding this is completely selfish, I wasn’t feeling like writing negative stuff and wanted to give those boys some soft moments before Baz leaves ^^

**Simon**

When I eventually check the tablet in the morning, I see that I have a few messages from Baz. 

[2:31 a.m.] _Come talk to me._

[2:34 a.m.] _Love, please._

[2:36 a.m.] _Simon_.

[2:39 a.m.] _Snow you can’t send me a message and then not answer._

[2:42 a.m.] _Love, I just want to see you._

[3:09 a.m.] _Good night Simon. I love you._

Now I feel a bit stupid for being scared to see his answer. I apologized and then I probably still made him feel bad by not coming to his room when he asked. Besides I think I could have used Baz’s presence. Maybe after hearing his voice I would have been able to fall asleep without having a nightmare. But that’s not what happened, so when I went back to sleep, I was woken up with another nightmare. Three in the same night, I didn’t even know it was possible. After that, I gave up on trying to sleep. It was 6 when I woke up anyway, I didn’t have to wait long before Malcolm, Daphne and the kids were up. 

I wanted them to be gone downstairs when I checked Baz’s messages -or lack of- so that I could go to his room if I needed to without meeting anyone on the way. Thank Merlin I did.

I get out of bed, grab and put on a pair of socks -the floor is bloody freezing- and then I’m on my way out. 

In front of his door, I hesitate. According to his messages, he went to bed a little bit after 3, and he takes a while to fall asleep so he has most likely only been sleeping since 4, maybe I should let him sleep. 

But if I go back to my room I’m pretty sure I’ll lose my nerve and stay there instead of talking to him, and I _need_ to talk to him. He deserves a proper apology, not a stupid message sent in the middle of the night. 

I press on the door handle. I can just walk in Baz’s room, right, I don’t need to knock? I close the door behind me and then I’m heading to his bed, being careful when I walk on the parts of the floor not covered with a rug. The wooden floor creaks quite a lot sometimes. Then I’m climbing on his bed, on my side of it, and I take a few seconds to look at him. I can barely see more than faint shapes, it’s dark in here, but it’s enough. 

“Baz,” I say after a while. “Baz, wake up.”

He does, with a jerk. 

“What the… Simon?” 

His voice is heavy with sleep, which makes it sound _much_ deeper than it usually is. It sends a shiver down my spine. 

“I wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday.”

“You already did,” he mumbles, pressing his face on his pillow again. 

Shit maybe I really shouldn’t have come. It was stupid I had all day long to see him I should have let him sleep, God knows he needs to. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I wanted to give you a proper apology I… I should have come later I’m sorry I’m gonna go,” I say, as I already start getting out of his bed.

I’m stopped by a firm hand on my arm. “Don’t you dare. You’re here, I’m not letting you go so easily. Just give me a minute.”

“Okay.”

His hold on me loosens and his hand slides down along my arm until it’s just resting over my hand. I watch him as he really comes awake, breathing softly, slipping his free hand between his face and the pillow, probably to rub his eyes. 

Then his hand is reaching out to grab something on his bedside table clumsily. He misses it three times, and then he takes his wand. 

I move my hand to my lap, making his fall on the bed, as he casts a spell that opens the blinds. He didn’t draw the curtains last night. He did at first, but I told him I didn’t like how it made the room completely dark so he stopped. I thought he’d do it again since I’m currently not sleeping here. 

He’s not casting the spell on me but I can still feel the heat of his magic, that’s how powerful he is.

Or maybe it’s just that my body is more receptive to other people’s magic now that I don’t have mine anymore. I don’t want to think about that. 

As light floods the room -not much ligh as it’s early, but still- I can finally see more of Baz. It’s still not much because the covers go up to the middle of his back, but it’s better than not seeing him. 

I notice that he’s wearing a jumper over his pyjamas. It’s something he’s done for as far as I can remember when it started being cold outside, but he didn’t when I was sleeping here. I kept him warm enough to only wear a top, and even to sleep shirtless sometimes. 

I don’t think I’ll be able to keep him warm like that anymore now, he may have to wear the jumper even when we’ll sleep in the same bed again. I feel so bloody cold all the time.

He shifts, bringing my attention to his face instead of his arms. He’s lying on his back now, stretching as he yawns. It’s cute. I rarely see him wake up because I’m always up long before him and I leave the room while he’s still asleep, but it doesn't come as a surprise that he’s lovely even when he’s still half asleep.

He rubs his eyes again and my heart melts. 

He’s been more open with me for weeks, it shouldn’t make me so weak to see him do normal, human things but for seven years, he never showed any sign that he was a person when I was around. I never saw him yawn, or roll his shoulders when they were sore after a long day, or seem even a bit tired after football practice. He was always perfect, and perfectly in control. 

I love the Baz who is perfect but lets go of his control. 

After some more seconds of silence, he stops moving and lies on his side to look at me, the hand that was on mine now supporting his head. “So, you wanted to talk?”

“Apologize. I wanted to apologize.”

“Well, go on then.”

I can tell by the tone of his voice that he still thinks my desire to give him an apology when I’ve already texted him to say sorry is unnecessary, but I ignore it. It can’t hurt him to hear me say it.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was cruel and uncalled for. You were worried about me and I was mean to you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, love,” he says with one of those sweet smiles he only gives me.

“No it’s not. It doesn’t have to be okay. I hurt you, I could see it. You can be mad.”

“Yes, I was hurt, but it was something you said out of anger. We all say stupid things we don’t really mean when we’re angry. I’m not mad at you for that. It’s okay, Simon, really.”

“You promise? You’re really not mad at me?”

**…**

**Baz**

We haven’t really had many fights since we started dating, and when we did it was about silly, insignificant things, but he always asked me that same question afterwards, when we had sorted it out, with that same scared look on his face. 

Half of the time when he makes something he considers to be a mistake, he looks at me with that fear in his eyes. One day we went to get snacks at night and clumsy as he is, he dropped the bowl he was holding. He kept apologizing and apologizing and apologizing and he was panicking so much he started picking up the shattered pieces of glass with his bare hands instead of letting me use magic or go get a broom to do it the normal way. 

I wonder where that comes from. If it’s because of his life in the care homes or because of the Mage. Sometimes he will randomly mention things about the care homes so I have a vague idea of the conditions he grew up in, and the look of him after each summer is permanently engraved in my memory, so I know that he had a difficult childhood, and the Mage seemed to very easily tell him off or say he was disappointed in him for the most ridiculous things, so it might even be both. 

“I promise,” I say, making my voice as confident as I can when I woke up five minutes ago.

I still can’t believe the bloody nightmare woke me up barely after sunrise just to apologize. He’s a complete disaster.

He gives me a shy smile, but doesn’t add anything. 

He doesn’t leave either, thank Merlin, so I simply enjoy his presence while I can. He’s looking at me too, so I suppose it’s okay to get my fill of him. 

Not that I could ever get my fill of Simon Snow. I simply look until it’s not physically possible anymore, and start looking again whenever he’s in sight.

I thought I’d get tired of this. Watching Simon. The messy way his curls grow on top of his head. The blue of his eyes, an ordinary, honestly boring shade that still makes me feel a little breathless when I get lost in it. The golden tones of his skin, like he was made to be something exceptional -and in a way, he was, but that’s not something I like being reminded of. The curve of his shoulders, always hunched because he has terrible posture. His neck, covered in moles like the rest of him. There’s one that’s right over his jugular vein. I’ve wanted to sink my fangs there for as long as I can remember.

Just the thought of it makes the vampire part of my brain get a little crazy. I can feel my fangs wanting to pop out. Fuck I shouldn’t think about biting Simon, especially when I haven’t fed, let alone fed off him, for a few days.

And they’re out, cold, sharp little things pushing my bottom lip. Fucking hell.

“Baz? Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, just my fangs doing their thing, no big deal. You know I don’t have much control over them.”

Crowley, I hate talking with that bloody lisp.

**…**

**Simon**

The slight lisp he has when his fangs are out is so adorable. 

**…**

**Baz**

“Are you sure? Don’t you need to feed?”

Fuck, I do. 

“No, it’s fine,” I answer, making it as believable as I can. 

“Liar. Your fangs don’t randomly pop like that when you’re not thirsty, except when there’s blood, and around right now there isn’t.

“Snow. You’re literally full of blood.”

He glares at me, clearly not taking any of my bullshit. Damn those fangs. 

“That has never bothered you before.”

It bothers me all the time. 

He has no idea how much I want his blood all the time. I don’t want him to know how much I want his blood all the time.

“If you want to feed just say it. It’s been a couple days, you need it anyway. It doesn’t change anything whether you drink at night or in the morning.”

“I don’t want your blood. I’ll go hunt if I need to.”

I don’t deserve his blood. He’s given so much already, on that cursed Halloween night, he shouldn’t have to give any more of what makes him alive.

He frowns. “Why?”

“Because I don’t. Your health is not at its best at the moment, I don’t want to make it any worse by making you lose blood when I can just go in the forest.”

“But you don’t like hunting.”

I wish he cared about himself as much as he seems to care about me. 

“I don’t, but it’s not so bad. Which makes me think ; on Saturday, when I went hunting…”

I leave my sentence at that, to add some suspense. It makes Simon smile. He rolls his eyes when he talks about how dramatic I am, but I know he secretly loves it.

“When you went hunting…?”

“I bit the animals without killing them,” I say, smugness in my voice because fuck, I’m quite proud of myself for that. “I could feed off them, fangs and all, without draining or turning them.”

I see Simon’s face break into a smile. A big, genuine smile that makes me feel all warm inside. 

“Oh my god, Baz that’s wonderful!” he says excitedly, his smile getting impossibly wider. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. “I’m so proud of you.”

I give him back his smile, though a smaller one. I’m sure my cheek muscles would hurt if I tried smiling as wide as Simon does. 

“No but really, that’s great Baz,” he continues, more calmly. “You’re making so much progress.” 

“It’s thanks to you. I would have kept feeding the same way I always did and feeling sorry for myself for probably my whole life if you hadn’t been here to tell me that there were other ways and to _encourage_ me to try those other ways.”

“Well, I’m glad I helped then,” he says, blushing a little bit.

He’s so fucking adorable, my heart is going to burst.

**…**

**Simon**

There’s another moment of silence after that. I’m still processing what Baz said, to be honest. He bit an animal and he could stop. He had enough control to stop himself before it was too late, and he didn’t even turn the animal.

That means maybe someday he could bite me.

I feel myself blush more at the thought.

I really want Baz to bite me. Not now. Not soon. He isn’t ready for that yet, and I’m not sure I am either. But someday.

“Snow, I was thinking about something,” Baz says eventually.

Snow. I don’t like when he calls me that. He doesn’t really do so anymore, but sometimes it slips. Force of habit.

“You’re always thinking about something. What is it this time?”

“I think we should go to town some time this week. Since I’m probably going back to school…”

“Why probably? You _are_ going back.”

“If you don’t change your mind about that before Sunday. Anyway. I’m probably going back to school, so I thought it would be better to get you an actual phone with a sim card and all so that you could call me, as well as text and call Bunce if you wish. I won’t buy you a phone, don’t worry. I have old phones, you can have one of those if you want, they still work pretty well.”

“But why would I need a phone? I like the tablet.”

I know it’s a bit of a childish reaction, but I really like the tablet. The screen is bigger, it’s more entertaining than Baz’s phone.

“You can keep the tablet, love. I simply want you to have a phone as well. Look, I’ll show you one feature that’s particularly nice, just give me a minute.”

With that, he pushes the covers off of himself and gets out of bed, shivering a little when the temperature of the room hits him. He slips his hands through the sleeves of a sweater as I say “A minute? Baz what are you doing?”

“I have to go get something downstairs,” he explains as he heads out. “I’ll be back.”

**…**

**Baz**

Daphne is a bit puzzled when I ask for her phone but she doesn’t question it, just asks me to give it back when I’m done doing whatever I want to do with it.

Snow looks even more puzzled than her when I hand him the phone. 

“Here, for you. It’s Daphne’s. The password is 132708. Just unlock it and wait.”

“Are you not going to explain?” he asks as he types the password.

“You’ll see if you just wait a second, you impatient moron.”

“Moron yourself,” he groans as I collect my own phone on the nightstand on the other side of the bed.

Then I walk until I’m sitting on the sofa, in front of Simon, looking right at him before I look down at my phone. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time I move my fingers over the screen of my phone until…

**…**

**Simon**

Daphne’s phone rings, Baz’s name showing up on the screen, and I take the call. I’ve seen Baz do it, I know how it works, and it’s not that hard to figure out anyway. 

Only seconds later, I see his face on the screen, and mine, on a tiny rectangle in a corner.

“Let me introduce you to Facetime,” Baz says dramatically. “With that, we could call each other _and_ see each other. Isn’t that nice?” 

He ends the call after that, he only started it for his little demonstration. Quickly enough, he’s back next to me, taking Daphne’s phone from my hands.

“It is nice, I must admit.”

It really is. As much as I like texting, it’s nice to hear his voice and see his face, and I’m sure I’m going to miss that when he’ll be away. My only experience of missing Baz Pitch are the summer holidays, and I truly did miss his presence, even if I wasn’t even in love back then. I can’t imagine how it’ll be now. 

“So you’re fine with getting a phone?”

“I am. But you’ll show me your phones some other time okay? For now I… I’d like to go back to my room.”

His face loses a little bit of its cheerfulness, though he quickly hides it. It makes my heart sting. I don’t want to make him sad, but I’ve been here for a while now and I could really use some alone time. 

“Fine. I’ll see you later then, maybe?”

I hate the hesitation in his voice. “Yes. Yes, you’ll see me later. _If,_ ” I add, stressing the word. “We’re just together like that. Chatting. Don’t try bringing up… you know what I’m talking about. It’s… much nicer spending time with you when you don’t try to play therapist. I’ll talk to you about it someday, I promise. Just… stop pushing. Give me the time I need and when I’ll be ready, we’ll talk. Until then, I want us to just enjoy ourselves when we’re together. Okay?”

“Yes. I won’t bring it. Cross my heart,” he says, without magic, but the words still make my heart beat a bit faster. There are a lot of spells to make promises. Cross my heart is one of them. It’s not a spell that’s taken lightly, and mages usually avoid using phrases that are also powerful spells in their day to day life, except for the spells that come from songs that are harder to avoid. It’s only superstition, no one can cast a spell just by saying the words without any magic and without using their magic artefact, but it’s still how it is.

“Great then. Bye Baz.”

“Bye, love.”

**…**

**Baz**

When he leaves my room, I realize that we haven’t kissed once the whole time he was here. It feels a bit disappointing, usually we can hardly take our hands off of each other, let alone spend so long in the same room without kissing, but Simon is acting strange -which I can’t really blame him for considering the consequences- so I suppose that’s why. It’s almost always him who initiates contact, so if he isn’t actively touching or kissing me, I won’t touch or kiss him. He is very fond of touch, affectionate touch, from having lacked it so much in his childhood I presume, so if he’s shying away from it, it must be for good reasons, and I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. 

He’s made it very clear that he didn’t like me _pushing him_ so I’m not going to push him to touch me. 

Besides, it’s not like going a day or two without cuddling Simon Snow is a foreign experience for me. I bloody excel in that area.

**…**

**Simon**

When I reach my room, I let out a relieved sigh. 

It felt really good to see Baz, especially after the night I had, but now I feel completely drained, like being in Baz’s room for what, thirty minutes? an hour? has completely sucked out all of my energy. All I want to do is collapse in bed and sleep. 

I hope that feeling will be gone soon. 

I don’t like being apart from Baz, I like it even less because I know he dislikes it too, but I think I need to. I guess I don’t recover from exhausting experiences as well as I used to when my body was filled to the brim with magic, and now I actually need to _rest_ before I can go back to a normal life.

I scoff at my own thoughts. _Normal_ life. Yeah, you could say that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve already written the chapter for tomorrow -I felt really inspired today, so yeah, two chapters in one day aha- and it’s even softer jdjdjdjdj it’s fully self indulgent 😂


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz spend the day in town together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soft chapter soft chapter soft chapter soft chapter

**Baz**

The week goes on peacefully. A little bit too peacefully for my taste, but I’m not going to complain. Simon’s been making efforts. He did spend most of his time hidden in his room, but over the last two days, he’s had lunch with us. I think lunch is easier to attend for him because Father is away for work. That’s one less person in the room, and Simon still gets uncomfortable around my father. He’s also been spending time with me. Twice a day, usually. A few dozen minutes, up to an hour, in the morning, chatting. Half an hour or so at night, before he wants to go to bed. Chatting again. We did cuddle, one night. It felt amazing. 

Today is my last day home. I’m leaving tomorrow morning for school. If I could, I’d leave in the evening, but the letter I got from Headmistress Bunce -it sounds weird to say it- asked us to be here before lunchtime so that over the afternoon she could visit the part of the dorms occupied by 8th year students and see who had come back and who hadn’t. 

So as I said, today is my last day home, and it’s also the day Simon chose to go to town. I didn’t mind waiting until the last minute, especially since he seems to be doing better everyday and I know that going outside isn’t easy for him. He could barely bear to be with me at the beginning of the week, I can’t imagine what it would have done to him to go to town then, to be surrounded by people.

Simon can get quite anxious in public spaces. It’s not something I expected, but now that I think back on our school years, it makes sense. He always seemed so uncomfortable when a teacher asked him a question, even when he actually knew the answer. He was awkward around most people, avoiding eye contact, rubbing his neck or fidgeting when he had to talk to someone. But it’s only when we went out, the two times we went out, that I really noticed it. At the restaurant, during our date in London, he kept reading and reading and reading the name of the dish he wanted to order, mumbling it, probably to remember it and yet he still checked it when the waiter came, and I could tell he wasn’t at ease ordering, and not just because the thought of the price it might cost bothered him. And then, when we went to buy him clothes, I asked him to go ask one of the employees for something and he started biting his lips and looking at me like I asked him to slay a dragon -though slaying a dragon seems easier for him than asking a question to a stranger. I ended up going myself, and Snow seemed truly relieved when I did. 

Therefore, now is the most appropriate time to go. It might be hard on him, but not as hard as it might have been otherwise. Besides, he doesn’t seem anxious now. He’s singing along -horribly, he has a terrible singing voice. It’s cute- to the music he’s playing on my phone. Some Britney Spears song. I knew letting Simon choose the music was a bad idea, but he’s enjoying himself too much for me to truly care about what he’s listening to or how off key he sounds. 

Besides, the music isn’t bad. That’s the problem. I want to be singing along too, but I’d rather die before I let anyone catch me singing along to fucking _...Baby One More Time._ Only Dev and Niall can witness such atrocity, and it’s only because they’re the only people I get pissed with. 

Simon’s holding my phone close to his mouth like a microphone, dancing in place and glancing at me from time to time, this smile that makes me weak in the knees on his face.

I much prefer seeing him like that than lying on his bed doing nothing but playing with his tablet to kill time. 

He gets to the last chorus, and he’s so enthusiastic about it, and the music is so catchy, I can’t help it, I start humming the lyrics too. Simon’s eyes go wide when he hears me, and then he starts giggling uncontrollably.

Bastard.

I shut my mouth instantly, feeling myself blush. I fed last night, what a terrible fucking idea that was.

“No, no, no, Baz don’t stop!” he says with laughter in his voice. 

**…**

**Simon**

“You’re making fun of me,” he mumbles, looking at the road fixedly. 

“No I’m not! I was just surprised. The song is over anyway. Come on, give me one you like so you can sing along,” I say as I click on the thing to look for a song. 

“No.”

“Come oooooon.”

“I said no, Simon. Put music you like. Your culture is abysmal when it comes to music, so I’ll most likely know what you put on next anyway.”

Eh, that’s actually a good point. I have big gaps in my knowledge of anything pop-culture related. I guess growing up where I did and then spending my adolescence at a school where you’re not allowed to have any electronic device does that to a person. I do know some stuff, though, from the holidays I spent at Agatha’s, and more recently, my time at Baz’s. 

Since he’s stubborn and I know he won’t tell me a song he likes, I just go for Britney Spears again. If he almost sang along to this song, he could probably sing along to _Toxic_ too, right?

**…**

He does. It’s glorious.

**…**

**Baz**

After singing and dancing and having a laugh at me on the way, Simon is perfectly relaxed -or at least, appears to be, but he’s unable to hide his emotions so he must truly be- when we get to town. That’s great. 

I make quick work of getting him a sim card. It was the main purpose of our drive here, but now that we’re in town and have all the time in the world -it’s barely 11- I want to walk around with him. Take him to the bookshop, and hear him call me a nerd. Take him to a restaurant, and listen to him speak as he eats like the barbarian he is. Take him to the same shopping center we went for his clothes, and watch him get excited about the escalator. Take him to a café if we’re still here in the afternoon, and enjoy a nice hot drink together. 

Just _be_ together.

We haven’t been that much, and even if I know it must be better for Simon, since he knows he can come to my room whenever he wants and decides not to, it doesn’t feel good. I’m about to leave for Merlin knows how long -if it was just me, I’d come back in two weeks, but maybe the new Headmistress won’t allow it- and I wish I’d have spent more of my time during my last week here with him. 

“So I just have to put that thing in the phone and it’ll work? I could call you and stuff?” he asks as we walk out of the store, the little bag they have us in hand. 

“Yes. I could do it for you, if you want. That way you can’t mess it up.”

“Rude.”

I snort at that. “You know I’m rude.”

He grins. “You’re not _rude_ , you’re a prick, that’s different.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so. Baz, what are we doing now?”

It’s crazy how he jumps from one subject to another like that. 

“I don’t know, what do you want to do? We have hours ahead of us, we can do lots of things.”

He shrugs. Typical. “I don’t mind, but I’d like to go somewhere where there aren’t tons of people you know? Can you think of any place like that?” he asks, and then he’s handing me the bag. “Take that for a minute, will you.”

I’m a bit puzzled as to why, but I do. Then I see him take hold of the zipper of his jacket, closing it all the way. 

I told him to close his jacket when we left the car. He said he didn't need to. 

It’s not surprising to see which of us was right. 

I know he isn’t used to feeling anything else than hot, or at the very least, warm, and he keeps complaining that he’s cold at home, wearing my mother’s cardigan constantly -Daphne had to take it after he fell asleep to wash it- so I knew he’d need to actually close his jacket to walk around outside in _November_ in _England._

“No comments,” he says as he snatches the bag back from me.

I give him a smirk. 

“ _Anyway_. Do you have an idea where to go or not? Otherwise I’m fine with going home.”

Please, everything but that.

“I do know a place that won’t be too crowded,” I answer, as I step a bit closer to him. I don’t know if I’ll go as far as holding his hand, a little town in Hampshire isn’t exactly the same thing as London, but I like being close to him anyhow. 

He looks at me, intrigued.

“Oh yes? What is it?”

My smirk intensifies a little, and I can tell he regrets asking already. “The bookshop.”

“I should have bloody guessed.”

**...**

In the end, he doesn’t dislike the bookshop that much. He thinks it’s a peaceful place. 

“I think so too. I love bookshops in general, but especially small ones like that. Waterstones is great, but it’s not the same experience.”

He shrugs “I guess,” he says as he trails his finger along a few books. “What kind of books do you like?”

“What do you mean?”

He stops touching the books and looks at me. I have one in my hands, which I was reading the back cover of. 

“Well, it’s not that soon, but Christmas is coming you know, and well... I want to get you something but… uh… I don’t really know what I _could_ get you because you have _everything_ so I’m looking for ideas and if I… if I settle for a book, it’s better if it’s something you would like, you know?”

He watches his feet as he says that, shifting from resting his weight on one leg to the other. He has a lovely pink shade on his cheeks.

He’s already thinking of getting me a present for Christmas. He is reluctant to spend the Mage’s money, but he would, to buy me something. He’s so sweet. 

“Try to guess. What could I possibly like?”

He blushes even more. Moron.

“I don’t like guessing.”

“Oh come on, it’s not that hard. You know my favourite book. And you _constantly_ tease me about that.”

Suddenly, he isn’t looking at his shoes anymore, and he has a small smile on his face. “Stuff with romance.”

I feel a smile tugging at my own lips. “I do enjoy a love story. It’s better if it’s a bit sad, though,” I say as I put the book back to turn at Snow. 

“You’re a damn sap,” is all he answers, shaking his head.

**…**

**Simon**

He ends up buying a book at the shop. He seems happy with it. Then he takes me to a restaurant, and though I’d rather eat some cheap pizza or at a McDonald’s or something, I let him because I know he likes those posh restaurants. Besides, it makes today feel more like a date and I like thinking of today as a date. Baz and I only went on one date, all those weeks ago in London. We’ve been together all day long at his place, I guess we didn’t need dates. But it does feel nice to go on one.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, though?” I say after the waitress gave us the menu. “You know, because of your…” I put my hand over my mouth. 

He nods. “If I don’t have meat on my plate it’ll be fine. I’ll just order something vegetarian.”

“Oh. That’s smart.” Of course it is. Baz thought about it. “Do you want me to order vegetarian too?”

“Order whatever you want, Simon. Your plate should be far enough for it to be okay. It would be preferable if you could avoid red meat though. You don’t like it medium rare and it gets quite bloody when it’s rare.”

I love how he just said “You don’t like it medium rare.”, I love that it’s something he noticed. That he cares enough to notice. No one ever remembers little stuff about me like that. Agatha never did, and Penny is too grossed out by how I eat to pay attention to what I eat, so except for the obvious stuff that I eat often, she doesn’t know what I like or not. I don’t blame her, I can’t say I know what she likes either. Penny does know my little quirks though, when it comes to other things.

“Okay, no red meat,” I say as I look down at the menu.

**…**

The afternoon goes as smoothly as the morning. At first we go to the shopping center. There are quite a lot of people but it’s a big place so they’re not all at the same place, and Baz is here, so it’s okay. We just walk around, going inside some shops if I or Baz want to. He buys a couple of things. Colorful necklaces and bracelets for Cordelia and Ophelia, a coloring book for Mordelia. A ridiculously cheesy mug with so much pink on it it almost hurts the eyes. He laughed when he picked it up and said it was for Dev. I suppose that’s an inside joke they have. There’s a coffee shop on the ground floor, so on our way out, we stop there for a drink. He orders something that seems much too sweet -but Baz always drinks his coffee much too sweet. It took a sip in his cup once, it was disgusting-, and I go for hot chocolate. 

I tell him I’d like to drink that while walking in the streets, so we do. 

The sun sets awfully early this time of year, and Daphne wants us back before it gets dark, so we don’t have much time to just have a walk outside. 

It feels great. The cold hair on my face, reddening my cheeks and nose, the hot drink in my hand, burning my throat when I bring it to my lips. 

The wind also makes Baz’s hair fly around a bit, which is kind of funny because he’s constantly pushing it back behind his ear just for it to move again five seconds later. 

“See, this is why I wore hair gel,” he groans as he tucks his hair once again.

It’s particularly messy because of his gloves. His hair sticks to it in a way they wouldn’t to his fingers. 

“Hey, I’ve never forbidden you from wearing hair gel. I just told you I preferred you without it.”

“Which is pretty much the same. I’m not going to wear it when you like my hair better without it.” 

“You could, if _you_ liked your hair better with it.”

“Well I don’t. It’s just more _practical_ ,” he says, irritation in his voice as his hair gets in his face again.

I can’t help but laugh a bit. I try to bite it back, but he hears me and casts me his darkest glare. It makes me laugh even more. Thank God for lids on takeaway drinks. My hot chocolate would have ended up all on the ground or myself otherwise. 

“Will you stop laughing,” Baz groans, slapping my arm.

I try to take deep breaths to calm down. I don’t want to _actually_ offend him. I know he’s not right now but he’s a bit of a susceptible bloke and he’ll be vexed if I laugh at him for too long. 

Once I’ve stopped laughing, I look at him. “Maybe we should head back home. You won’t have the wind in your face if we’re in the car,” I can’t help but add, my smile still not completely gone from my face.

“Fuck right off, Snow.”

**…**

**Baz**

We do head back to the car, though. It’s at least a fifteen minute walk from here to there, and I’m starting to freeze, so it’s more than time to go.

Simon seems cold too. He’s holding his cup with both hands, only letting go of one to press the cup against it, bringing some warmth to his knuckles and the back of his hand, which are exposed to the wind. We didn’t buy him gloves, when we went shopping. Didn’t think it would be necessary. I didn’t think about it today either. 

I’m tempted to turn back and go buy him a pair of gloves, but then I get an idea. 

It’s straight out of the cheesiest rom coms I watch, but one can indulge in cheesiness sometimes. 

Carefully, I tap the back of his hand with mind. He frowns. “Let go of the cup.”

He does. As soon as I can, I slip my fingers between his, intertwining them, and then I’m bringing our joined hands to my pocket -bless large pockets. 

“To keep you warm,” I tell him with a smile I won’t admit is shy, but definitely is.

**…**

**Simon**

It’s a strange thought, Baz keeping me warm. I’m the one who’s supposed to do that. But… No.

Today was going well. I’m in a good mood, I had lots of fun with Baz, I didn’t feel this crushing weight on my chest I’ve felt all week as much as I did before, I won’t ruin all of that now. Instead, I enjoy the feeling of holding hands with Baz, even if his glove is in the way.

**…**

**Baz**

It’s like all the magic of today disappears the moment we step inside the house. Simon takes his shoes and jacket off, and then he’s already walking upstairs, without giving me a smile or even just a look. 

Fuck did I do something wrong?

**…**

**Simon**

The closer we got to the manor the worse I felt. I felt physically sick when we drove by the forest. It’s like whatever made today so perfect was gone once we were in a familiar setting again. Like I could only let myself have fun because I wasn’t here.

But it really felt different, being there. In town, surrounded by Normals and Normal shops and Normal technology and _no magic_ , it felt like I was just some kid on a date with his boyfriend. 

Here… Here I’m surrounded with _mages_. And I didn’t realize it before, but their magic does something to the atmosphere. It feels completely different, being outside, far from the house and being here. It’s like the air is heavier. I can feel their magic around me.

But I don’t feel any magic _inside_ me anymore.

**…**

I don’t go down for dinner, and I tell Baz not to bring me any. That’s the only message I send him all evening.

Until…

**…**

**Baz**

My phone buzzes. I put down my book to check it.

[11:52 p.m.] **can i come sleep in your room?**

I blink and reread the message a few times, just to be sure it’s not my eyes fooling me. But it’s not. I reread it, and reread it, and reread it, and each times it reads the same.

Simon wants to come sleep here.

My fingers can’t type fast enough.

[11:54 p.m.] _Of course, love._

The moment I notice that he’s seen the message, I put my phone down on the nightstand, the book inside the drawer, and I take my jumper off. If Simon’s going to sleep beside me, my top will be enough. 

Simon’s going to sleep beside me. 

It’s bloody fantastic. I know we’ve only spent a few nights apart but fuck, I need his presence near me like a thirtsy man needs water. 

When I hear the door open, my heart stops.

He’s here. Fuck, he’s here.

He’s wearing one of those lovely pyjama bottoms with tartan on them, and a shirt that’s a bit loose on him. He’s so pretty.

“Hey,” he whispers as he comes closer.

He’s slipping under the covers when I answer “Hey, love.”

I don’t dare move. If he wants us to be close, he’ll come closer.

_He fucking does._

I could cry when I feel his head on my chest.

He’s here. He’s here right next to me. I can feel the heat of his body, less intense than before but still just as pleasant, the weight of his head. 

“I didn’t want to sleep alone.”

It’s the only explanation he gives me, but it’s enough.

I didn’t want to sleep alone either. 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz goes back to school

**Simon**

This was my first night without a nightmare in a week. 

It might very well be a coincidence, but I like thinking that it’s because of Baz. It took quite a lot of determination to even get myself to come sleep here, so I enjoy telling myself that it has paid. That it’s my reward, for being able to overcome this idiotic fear and go sleep in Baz’s room ; a night without bad dreams.

Even if I don’t think about the lack of nightmares, sleeping here was a good idea. I woke up with my cheek against his skin, which is less cold than it usually is, and with him hand lightly resting on my hip, and that was fucking brilliant. 

Being able to be with him without having to have a difficult conversation really helped make his presence feel like it did before Halloween. Comforting. It’s like the hollowness inside me I’ve felt since I gave up my magic fills up a little bit when I’m with Baz. 

But I’d like to be able to do that on my own. To heal on my own. I don’t want to depend on Baz to feel good. It’s not right for either of us. 

Which is why it’s a good thing he’s leaving today, even if it makes me a bit sad to think about it. He loves Watford. He’ll enjoy himself there. He’ll get his excellent grades and tell me about them proudly. He’ll play football and be brilliant at it, like he is at everything. He’ll hang out with Dev and Niall. 

He’ll do all the things he used to do, except the things he did with me. 

Since the things he did with me were mostly fighting, except for those wonderful weeks when we stopped being idiots, I suppose it’s not so bad that he won’t do the things we did anymore. 

I wonder if he’ll miss me.

I mean, I guess he will.

But you know, maybe he won’t. He said he hated it when I wasn’t at Watford at the beginning of the year but that’s because he didn’t know where I was while this time he will know that I’m somewhere safe, that I’m taken care of and not in imminent danger. 

I’d like him not to miss me too much. I still want him to miss me a little bit, just not so much that it hurts him. 

I want him to miss me because I want him to _remember_ me. To remember that I’m here and that I’m his boyfriend and that even if I’m a bit of a mess -okay, I’m a massive trainwreck- and I don’t always show it, I love him. 

There are plenty of fit blokes at school, you know?

Baz’s breathing changes, the telltale sign that he’s going to wake up. I don’t move. I want him to wake up surrounded by me the same way I woke up surrounded by him. 

Soon enough, I feel him move beneath me. Feel his muscles shift, feel the soft fabric of his pyjama top rubbing against my cheek. 

When I feel one of his hands make its way into my hair, I move my head to look at him, resting it on his arm instead of his chest. It’s a bit of an awkward position, but I know he’ll take it the wrong way if I move away from him, and I can’t look at him with my head on his torso, so this is the best I can do. 

“Hello,” I tell him with a small smile.

“Hello, love,” he answers.

His voice makes me shiver. He sounds really too hot when he just woke up. 

I mean. He sounds hot all the time. But he sounds particularly great when his voice is deeper like that. I also very much enjoy his voice being raspy after…

My cheeks burn at the thought.

That _thought_ , that reminds me that he’s leaving today and we haven’t done anything like that in a week. And we haven’t had proper sex in even longer than that. Crowley, that was stupid.

But at the same time…

Sex, it’s so… _intimate_. I’m not sure my stupid brain that decides to randomly make me feel uncomfortable when Baz touches me would have let me make love to him without finding a way to ruin it all. 

Besides, the longer we wait, the greater the sex will be, right? We had _mind-blowing_ sex that one time after he was a tease all week. 

“Snow, stop having dirty thoughts, I want to enjoy waking up with a beautiful young man in my arms in peace,” Baz mumbles, sounding more amused than annoyed. 

“How do you know I’m having dirty thoughts!”

I move again to completely lie down on my stomach, propping my chin up on my joined hands. Baz’s hand stayed in my hair the whole time. 

“No offence darling, but it’s really not that hard to guess. You’re having dirty thoughts half of the time.”

“Not that you mind.”

“I most certainly don’t,” he answers with a smirk. “Usually. Right now though, I’d just like to cuddle you without your indecent, impure thoughts coming in the way.”

He lets go of my hair as he says that, to put his hand on my back and pull me close instead. I’m not half on top of him like I often am when we cuddle, but I’m close enough. I can press my head in the crook of his neck, my nose buried right where his shoulders meet his neck, and that’s really my only request when Baz holds me against him ; that I’m close enough to have access to his neck. 

He says it’s weird I like kissing his neck and him kissing my neck so much. He calls that _vampire kink._ I call that wanting to make my boyfriend all soft with neck kisses. And, _okay,_ maybe there’s some vampire fetish going on when it comes to his mouth on my neck, but I don’t want to prove Baz right so I’m not going to admit that. 

He kisses the top of my head as his fingers start gently tapping my back. “I’m glad you came here last night,” he says, his lips still lost in my hain.

“I’m glad I came too.”

Even though it was a bit scary when I did it. We had spent all day together, I wasn’t sure I could let myself enjoy a night with him too, but it went well so I’m glad. Now I regret not trying to sleep here earlier, at least one night before this one.

“Are you excited to go back to school?” I ask him, cuddling up to him a bit more.

And there it is. 

That little voice in my head telling me to enjoy it while it lasts because there’s no way Baz will want me much longer, not when I don’t have magic anymore.

I go back to my initial position.

It all happens in a matter of seconds, so I don’t think Baz notices. He probably thought I shifted to find a more comfortable position, not that I came closer only to cowardly move back right after.

“Are you sure you want me to go back?”

The same question again. He’s been asking it every day. And every day, he got the same answer.

“Yes.”

It’s important for him. I know it is. Besides what’s he going to do all day if he stays here, huh? He’s better off at school. 

“Really, really, really sure? Because if you have a single doubt, I’m staying.”

“I’m starting to think _you_ don’t want to go back.”

“No, it’s not that. I do want to go back. I like Watford, I want to finish my year. But I don’t want that as much as I want to do what’s best for you, for _us._ So if you think you’d feel better if I stayed home, for whatever reason, I will.”

Yeah, he will and then he’ll resent me and use it against me when we eventually fight. 

I raise my head to look at him. “Basil. I’m fine with you going back. Really. Besides, we have the phones, so it’s not like we’ll completely get out of touch while you’re away. If you think I’m not going to send you a million texts throughout the day telling you about all the cute videos I saw on instagram just because you’re at school, you’re damn wrong.”

That seems to lift his spirits. He gives a smile, a small, tender one, that makes my heart do funny things in my chest. 

“Okay then. But you still have until I leave to change your mind.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I won’t change my mind.”

And I won’t. 

**…**

**Baz**

“Are you…”

“Jesus Christ Basilton, yes, I’m sure,” he interrupts me, sounding amused more than irritated. He has a small smile on his face. “I can survive a few weeks without seeing you, you know. I’ve done it every summer for 7 years.”

The wind is blowing in his face, making his hair messier than usual and his nose and cheeks red. And he’s holding that damned cardigan close around himself. I don’t know why he likes that thing so much. Sure, it’s comfortable but he has _other_ clothes to keep himself warm. And _I_ have other clothes he could have stolen to keep himself warm. Though it’s true, I have nothing quite like my mother’s cardigan. It’s so big -according to Fiona, Mum liked her clothes at home to be comfortable, so they were pretty much all very baggy- and quite soft -it was handmade, my grandmother loved to knit- but there’s nothing special about it. 

And it’s _black._

Black doesn’t suit him.

“Hey, who knows, maybe the fact that you don’t hate me now would make it less enjoyable to be away from me,” I say, teasing back.

**…**

**Simon**

It was never enjoyable.

**…**

**Baz**

“Maybe, yeah. But I’ll have your family to keep myself busy.”

That he will.

The girls are obsessed with him, as soon as he’ll start going back downstairs instead of locking himself in his room, they’ll harass him all day long. And there’s Daphne, of course. That woman has a tendency to adopt any damn person who sets foot at the manor. She did the same with Dev and Niall. They call her mum as a joke when they’re here. I would honestly not be surprised if Simon started doing that too. 

I put my hand on my forehead quite dramatically. “Oh, I see it now, you’re choosing my family over me.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what’s happening here, you’ve discovered my plans. I was in it for your family the whole time,” he says, laughing softly, as he reaches out with one of his hands, only to put it behind my neck.

He’s going to kiss me, right?

Merlin, he’s going to kiss me.

We haven’t kissed in a week.

He gets on his tiptoes, his other hand on my hip for balance, and then he’s bringing his lips on mine.

He just barely brushes them at first, and I’m afraid he’s going to leave it at that. I think for a moment he considers leaving it at that too, but then his tongue is softly licking my bottom lip. 

I don’t wait any longer to open my mouth, and when our tongues meet, I close my eyes.

Aleister Crowley, it feels good to be kissing him. 

My own hand slides behind him, stopping on the small of his back.

When he pulls back, he keeps his hand on my neck. 

“Go now. It’s late already,” he says, boring his eyes into mine. 

“I’m going. Shall I call you tonight? Or when I arrive?”

“Tonight. Take your time to settle there. Besides, I fall asleep more easily if I talk to you before I go to bed.”

He’s already told me that, it’s the reason why he came at night this week. The fact that I knew it doesn’t stop a stupid smile from growing on my face. 

“Tonight it is, then. Goodbye, love.”

I press a kiss on his forehead as I say that. I touch him as much as I can before I have to let go. 

“Bye. See you when you come home.”

Come home. There’s something about the way he says it that makes me feel warm inside. Like the manor is his home too, now. _Our_ home. 

Like it’s not just ‘Baz’s place’ anymore. It’s home.

Like I’ve given him a home when I brought him here.

I eventually move back, because now I have to, and I give him a last smile, a bit bigger than I usually let my smiles be, before I open the car door and get inside. 

He waves at me in the mirror. Idiot.

As the shape of him becomes smaller and smaller, less and less distinct, in the rearview mirror, I feel a stinging pain in my chest.

I’m going to miss that idiot.

**…**

When I walk in the room, the first thing I see is Snow’s bed, not made, and with a notebook on it. 

I didn’t think about that. About the fact that he left thinking he’d come back. 

The room probably considers that he’ll come back too, it didn’t throw his stuff out like it does with students that are expelled. 

My heart is heavy as I carry my suitcase to my bed to unpack it. I could do it with magic, but I need to be doing something with my hands, so I suppose I’ll do it the normal way. Besides, even if my spellwork is excellent, a spell cannot tidy my clothes as well as I do on my own. I have my little habits that magic doesn’t replicate.

I try to focus on the careful folding of my clothes and on how I want to order them in the wardrobe -by colours, that’s always how I do it. It’s easier to find a shirt that matches the trousers I want to wear if they’re sorted by colour, and vice versa. Simon made fun of me for a solid hour when he put one of my clothes back in my wardrobe and I scolded him because he put a dark green shirt _after_ a light green on instead of _before._

He’d probably be making fun of me at this very moment if he could see me. If he was here.

But he’s not.

**…**

I still have a lump in my throat when I walk inside Dev and Niall’s room. 

They’re snogging on Niall’s bed. Typical. 

I clear my throat, even though I know that they know I’m here because Dev told me to come in when I knocked.

They keep snogging for a few more seconds before Dev pushes himself backwards, sitting on Niall’s thighs. I guess that’s the best I’ll get from them. They’re the fucking worse.

I go sit on Dev’s bed, since they don’t seem to want to make room for me on Niall’s, and soon enough, Dev is saying “So you remember we exist, now?”

There’s no bite to his words. After all, I didn’t text, but he didn’t either. I did chat with Niall a bit, though.

I simply glare at him, drawing my legs up to rest my chin on my knees. It makes me feel a bit like a child, but who cares. 

“You were too busy shagging Snow to call us, weren’t you?” Dev continues, with a playful gleam in his eyes.

Niall chuckles when he hears him.

He’s still lying down, having made no effort to make Dev move. I get it. If Simon was sitting on my thighs like that, I’d be damned before I asked him to let me free my legs. And they haven’t seen each other in weeks. 

Which makes me think that I’m lucky I decided to come when they were just _snogging_ and still had a decent amount of clothes on them -Niall’s shirt is nowhere to be seen but I’ve seen him almost naked too many times to count, I barely notice anymore.

The only answer I give Dev is a smirk and a knowing look. 

“You fucker. I _wish_ I could invite Niall home. But speaking of your charming prince, why didn’t you drag him here with you? Do you not want him to spend time with us or what?”

I lose my smile.

The first -and only- week we spent here after getting together, I tried avoiding having Dev and Niall and Simon in the same room. They’re… a lot, and Snow doesn’t know them well. I wanted to keep him to myself. Our relationship was so new.

“Baz, what is it?” Niall asks. He must have noticed the change in my expression.

“Haven’t you heard? Simon gave up his magic to defeat the Humdrum. He can’t come back.”

They both gasp.

“Lost his magic?” Dev sounds completely disbelieving when he says it. “How is that even possible.”

“I don’t know, but it happened. And now… he has no magic left in him.”

“So he’s like… a Normal?”

“He’s the furthest thing from a Normal,” I snap back immediately with a death glare. “He just doesn’t have magic anymore.”

Simon Snow doesn’t need magic to be magical. 

Dev gives me a perplexed look.

“So I suppose that he’s staying at your place?” Niall asks after hitting Dev’s leg to stop him from saying something stupid. “He doesn’t really have many options.”

I know he’s an orphan, thank you very much.

“Yes.”

“D’you think he’s gonna survive?” Dev says. “‘Cause if I were your boyfriend…”

“You’re my literal cousin.”

“Hush, you get my point. If I were your boyfriend, the last thing I’d want would be to be in a house with Malcolm when you’re not around.”

“Surprisingly, my father seems to like Simon.”

I still don’t get it, but I sure as hell am happy about it.

“You really are a lucky bastard,” Dev groans, letting himself fall back on top of Niall.

Now I feel kind of bad for being so sad about not seeing Simon. They didn’t see each other the whole time the school was closed, and knowing Dev’s parents, especially his father, they probably couldn’t even talk on the phone much. Dev isn’t allowed to close his door _at all_ and he says his father goes mad when he hears he’s talking to Niall, so their only real option is texting.

I felt like I was dying when Snow would only text me instead of coming in my room to be with me. I can’t imagine how it’s been for them.

I should probably go. They need time with each other, now that they _can_ be together.

**…**

The rest of the afternoon is excruciatingly long. I’m sure it’ll be fine once I’ll have class, but I can also already tell the weekends are going to be torture if I can’t go see Simon. 

I was tempted to make his bed all day long, because I don’t like living in an untidy room, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It’s so… Snow. The messy bed. The notebook discarded on it. The empty bag of crisps on the desk. 

I’ll leave it all like that for the moment. It’ll make it look like he’s living here still. I don’t want to make the traces of Simon Snow in this room disappear.

When I see his name on my phone screen, I smile. Soon enough, I see his face, and I smile wider. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz comes home after two weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IVE BEEN LISTENING TO EVERMORE BY TAYLOR SWIFT ALL DAY LONG, THERE ARE SO MANY SONGS THAT INSPIRE ME OMG—
> 
> stream happiness by taylor swift :)
> 
> i’m just gonna mention some of the stuff from evermore that gives me ~inspiration~ for fanfics i’ll probably never write :  
> THE ENTIRETY OF IVY. Like. Some sort of royal au or any AU where Simon has to be engaged to Agatha, but then boom, BAZ  
> and like the whole song had the perfect vibes but THIS LINE : “My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand”  
> the way my Carry On obsessed brain screamed Baz when I heard freezing hand  
> also the chorus of ‘tis the damn season :  
> “So we could call it even  
> You could call me "babe" for the weekend  
> 'Tis the damn season, write this down  
> I'm stayin' at my parents' house  
> And the road not taken looks real good now  
> And it always leads to you and my hometown”  
> makes me want some sort of ‘they’re exes’ story where Baz didn’t tell his parents he and Simon had broken up so he begs him to pretend, just for Christmas, so that Malcolm won’t be an asshole about it, but they end up getting back together for real  
> I’m pretty sure I had more thoughts when I listened to the album but I ~forgot them~
> 
> NOW SOMETHING ACTUALLY RELEVANT TO THE CHAPTER  
> there’s some smut in this chapter (they haven’t seen each other for a while ;) ) so if it’s not something you want to read, stop reading after “I missed you too”

**Baz**

The first two weeks without Simon are... difficult, to say the least. Whenever I enter the room, my eyes immediately go to his side of it, looking for him. But of course, he isn’t there. He won’t be there ever again. 

I’ve gotten used to seeing him often, and even if in my last week at home we weren’t together all day long like we were before, we still _saw_ each other. Now I only see him on the phone, it’s not the same. Besides, he doesn’t call everyday. He’s only called 6 times. The other days, he simply sent me a few messages.

The change from having him all to myself for hours on end to not even hearing his voice once a day is brutal.

But I want this. I want to be at school. It feels refreshing going back to class. It’s just fucking hard whenever I’m _not_ in class. I’m starting to be a bit jealous of those Normals who go to school during the day but go back home right after. It would be so much better if it was like that for mages. 

But there’s only one Watford, and no one is allowed to live elsewhere while receiving their education here, so I’m stuck in Mummers. In that room I used to share with him. 

I’ve even resorted to going back to my old habits and touch myself thinking about him, except that now, when I lie awake at night in a darkened room, my hand between my thighs, I don’t think of imaginary scenarios that’ll never happen in a million years anymore. Instead, I think of us. 

I think of the way he giggled when he pushed me on the bed for the first time. I think of how he made love to me, deep and slow and tender, in the same bed where I used to watch him sleep, thinking he could never be mine. I think of his voice in my ear, deeped and deeper as he reaches orgasm, moaning my name. _Baz, Baz, Baz_. I think of how lovely he looked with his head between my thighs as I was sitting at my desk, trying to work. I think of the heat of his body when we slept, practically on top of one another because of how small the beds are, his naked skin warm and sticky with sweat against mine, equally as bare. 

But then once the haze of orgasm has faded, it always hits me that I’m completely _alone_ here. He isn’t going to randomly slip his hands under the waistband of my pants with a playful smile on his face or kiss me until I forget my own name. He isn’t going to be holding me at night and wake me up in the morning when he gets out of bed. 

It’s really much fucking harder than I thought.

But Simon doesn’t seem too bothered, he’d call me more often if he missed me too much, so I suppose it’s fine. It’s just me being too needy. I’ve always been too needy, when it came to him, to his presence. 

It always feels like my need for him is going to consume me. 

**…**

**Simon**

The first two weeks without Baz are surprisingly easy. I thought I’d miss him every minute of every day, but it ended up being manageable. I miss him, of course, how could I not miss Baz Pitch’s presence, but it’s moderate. 

I think it’s because I forced myself to stop moping in bed and actually do _something_. I can’t spend forever feeling sorry for myself, it won’t bring my magic back.

I still feel this hollowness when I think about my magic, though. Which is why I make a point of _not_ thinking about it.

If he was here, Baz would say I need to stop doing that and truly take the time to think about how the loss of my magic has affected me. But he isn’t here.

Penny is of the same opinion as Baz. I’ve texted her, since I have a phone now, and when she asked how I felt regarding the fact that I gave my magic up, I avoided the topic, so she started saying all of the things Baz says too. 

Thankfully, she isn’t here either, so when she got too annoying, I just stopped answering. 

The people who are _actually_ here though are Baz’s sisters, and _they_ don’t annoy me with my magic. Ophelia and Cordelia couldn’t care less about magic, so they probably have no idea I don’t have it anymore, and even if I’m sure that Mordelia does know -she is a smart and curious little girl- she doesn’t bring it up. All she wants from me is the permission to paint my nails or put hair clips in my hair. And well, the baby is a baby, so she’s not going to start questioning me.

Their mother is another story, though. I can see that Daphne would like to make me talk about my magic -I’m half convinced that Baz and her send each other messages about me, that’s the kind of thing they’d do- but she doesn’t push. 

So, really, everything’s going relatively well.

Except for my nights.

I’m still plagued with nightmares. Admittedly, not as much as during the first week after Halloween, but I still have them several times a week. It’s getting exhausting. If I didn’t hate having spells cast on me so much, I’d ask Daphne to spell me a peaceful sleep. I think I’m eventually going to give up and ask her, if the nightmares don’t stop.

I at least hope they’ll stop when Baz will be here. I want to sleep in his room this weekend, but I don’t want to be waking him up because I have nightmares. It’s better if he doesn’t know about the nightmares. It’ll just worry him more, and he already worries more than enough.

**…**

“Simon! Simon, Baz is home!” Mordelia shouts from the bottom of the stairs. 

I don’t need to be told twice. I’m on my way downstairs the moment I hear her. 

I’m so excited to see him. Having him on the phone was great, but I can’t wait to be _with_ him. To be able to touch his cold skin and smell his fancy perfume. Thread my fingers through his hair and taste his lips. 

Right as I reach the entrance hall, Mordelia hopping excitedly next to me, the front door opens. 

I feel the cold wind before I see him. But Merlin, when I see him…

He’s so fucking gorgeous it hurts. 

I can’t see his outfit because he’s wearing that long black coat he loves, but I can see his face and he looks even more beautiful than I remembered him. I don’t even know how it’s possible. When I think about him in my mind, he’s the most stunning person I’ve ever seen. He shouldn’t be _allowed_ to look even better in real life. 

He glances at me with a small smile as he takes his scarf off. It’s a long, sky blue thing made of some thick material. It’s one of the few items of clothing Baz owns that he bought because it’s _practical_ and not because it’s _pretty._ It’s simply to keep him warm, not to make him look better, even though it _does_ make him look better. Bright colours suit him. He wears so much black, grey and very dark colours. 

After the scarf, it’s the coat he takes off, and I can finally see what he’s wearing. His purple button down. 

It’s one of my favourite shirts of his, because purple is my favourite colour -Mordy and I have that in common, she was excited when she found out. I wonder if it’s just a coincidence or if he wore it for me. I’m going to pretend he wore it for me.

Mordelia is jumping in his arms before I can. Pity. If I didn’t like seeing him with children so much, I’d be mad.

He knelt down so that he wouldn’t have to carry her -she says she isn’t a baby so she doesn’t want to be carried anymore- and now he’s hugging her, kissing her hair. It’s so fucking cute. 

He takes some time after the hug to talk to her, or more accurately, listen to her, still on his knees, smiling softly and nodding as she waves her hands frantically, an unstoppable flow of words coming out of her mouth.

I just stand back, my arms crossed on my chest, watching them. 

Once I told Baz I imagined him with children of his own when I saw him with his sisters, and I didn’t lie. Just now, I’m thinking about another little girl, that I can’t quite picture, who punctuates her sentences with “Dad” instead of “Baz”. It’s a thought that warms my heart. 

I’m sure he’d be as great at parenting as he is at everything else. 

When Mordelia eventually decides that she doesn’t want to be talking to Baz anymore, I walk closer to him. He immediately gives me a sweet smile, offering me his hand. I take it, and he uses that hold he has on me to pull me closer. “I missed you,” he whispers against my lips before he catches them. I can’t even reply, he’s already trying to get his tongue inside my mouth.

It makes me smile. Baz isn’t usually eager like that, not unless I’ve been teasing him for a while and he’s very frustrated. It’s not so bad for my ego to see him like that simply because we’ve been apart for two weeks.

I let him kiss me more deeply, getting used to the taste of him again, but quickly, I move back. We’re still in the entrance hall, and no matter how much he missed me, I know he wouldn’t appreciate it if one of his parents caught us snogging. 

“I missed you too.”

**…**

**Baz**

It’s not long before we take it to the room.

I barely have time to say hello to my parents before Snow tries to drag me upstairs. I don’t mind his enthusiasm _at all_. It’s much better than when he pushed me away. I don’t know what caused this change in his behavior. Maybe the separation truly made him miss me, or maybe the time he had without me around to process his feelings about the loss of his magic made his need to distance himself go. 

Whatever it is, I’m thankful for it. I really missed the feeling of his hands on my skin, touching me like he can’t get enough of me like he is right now.

He didn’t bother going to the bed before he untucked my shirt to slip his hands underneath it.

I was expecting a compliment for the shirt. I wore it for him, I know he likes it a lot. But he also likes saying that my clothes look _much better_ on the floor than on me, so I don’t think I’ll mind the lack of comment if this shirt does end up on the floor. And quickly.

It does.

“You’re a brute, I just came back,” I tease him when his mouth isn’t on mine anymore. 

His hands are roaming on my chest, tracing my abs, brushing my side, scratching my shoulders, but purposefully avoiding my neck and nipples because he knows that’s where I want to be touched more.

One would think that three weeks without sex would make him want to be less of a bloody tease. 

“Don’t say that as if you don’t want this,” he says, hooking his fingers in the belt hoops of my jeans.

I love when he does that to pull me closer. It’s so hot for some reason.

“What makes you think I want this?” I say with one of my signature smirks, even though he can _feel_ how much I want this.

I get hard so fast, it’s almost embarrassing. 

He presses his thigh against my crotch, and I have to bite back a moan. I can’t start _moaning_ already, that’d really be too embarrassing.

“ _That_ makes me think that you want this,” he says with a cocky smile.

The confidence Simon gets when we’re doing anything sexual is truly remarkable. I kind of wish he was like that outside of the bedroom, because he does need some more confidence in his daily life, but at the same time, I don’t think I could handle it if he was this sure of himself at all times. 

Then his voice is in my ear again, much softer though. “But if you actually don’t want to have sex, it’s okay, you know that Baz?”

Merlin, what have I done to deserve him.

I give him a small smile. “Yes, love. I know. I was teasing.”

“Just making sure. Wouldn’t want you to feel like you have to have sex with me just because we haven’t fucked in a while.”

I raise my hand to stroke his cheek. He leans into the touch, so I leave my hand there. “Don’t worry. I want you very, very, _very_ much, Simon Snow.”

**…**

We don’t show up at dinner.

**…**

“You know babe,” Simon says, trailing his fingers up and down my spine. It tickles. “I really missed you, but I also really missed _this_ ,” he continues as his hand wanders a bit lower. 

I tense in a delicious way when he presses one of his fingers inside me. We only finished minutes ago, I’m still sensitive. It feels so fucking good. 

I can tell by the way he moves his finger inside me that he’s trying to get me riled up again. There are really only three ways Simon touches me. 

Careful and tender, when he wants me ready for him. 

Slow and teasing, when he wants me begging.

Hard and fast, when he wants me aroused. 

“Snow, I physically can’t go for another round right now.”

At least I can’t if I want to walk without making a fool of myself tomorrow. He was in the mood to _fuck_ today. Not make love. As much as I enjoyed it, I also enjoy my dignity and I’m not sure I’ll be able to preserve it if I go down to breakfast tomorrow with my arse sore from how well my boyfriend fucked me the night before.

I like thinking that my parents are blissfully ignorant of the fact that Snow and I have a sex life, even if it’s completely delusional. Daphne didn’t give us condoms and tell me I could lock my door for us to play chess in the room. 

“Don’t worry, I’m going to leave your arse alone.”

He says, with two fingers inside me, brushing my prostate.

If he truly don’t intend to fuck me again, I suppose he’s fingering me because he likes feeling his come inside me. That wouldn’t surprise me so much. 

“I’m more interested in your cock,” he continues, kissing my shoulder. “I miss having you in my mouth.”

That devilish mouth of his. It’ll be the death of me someday. 

**…**

Today. It’s today that it’ll be the death of me.

Fuck I thought I remembered how good he was at this, but my memories are only a pale comparison to the real thing. Thank Merlin for silencing spells. How do Normal teens ever have sex in their parents’ house honestly. 

**…**

**Simon**

I think Baz really likes blowjobs. Or any kind of oral sex, really. He looks so much more abandoned when I put my mouth on him than when I fuck him, and bloody hell, he does get lost in pleasure when I’m inside him. 

I haven’t been sucking him off for a while but I can already feel his thighs trembling under my hands. On another day, I would have slowed down. On another day, I would have drawn a frustrated cry out of him, and I would have waited for a series of beautiful _‘please please please’_ to let him come. 

But not today.

He’s been so good, and I honestly can’t bring myself to wait. After doing this a handful of times, I’m starting to enjoy the taste of his come, because it’s _Baz’s._ This is the closest I’d ever get to tasting _him_ , since his skin doesn’t taste of anything and the faint metallic taste in his mouth is caused by the blood he drinks, it’s not his own taste.

I close my eyes when I feel him pulse inside my mouth, filling it with his come. I have to focus on not swallowing it. I have other plans in my mind. 

It’s a bit gross, but Baz likes it when things get a bit gross. He asked me to come on his face once, and _he_ came on the spot, completely untouched, when I did.

I let his cock slide out of my mouth as best as I can without making a mess of things, and then I’m crawling up his body until my face is over his. His pupils are still blown, and his cheeks have a lovely pink tint on them. He’s absolutely stunning. 

I put my hand on the place where his jaws meet, on each side of his face, and I think he understands the message because he opens his mouth, not without giving me a puzzled look. Well, the closest thing to a puzzled look he can manage when he’s still going through the aftershock of his orgasm. 

When I open _my_ mouth his eyes go wide, but I can see that it’s in a good way because he parts his lips more, eager to feel the spit and come rolling off my tongue on _his_ tongue. His eyes roll back when I lean down to snog him.

It’s not the first time we snog with weird stuff still in our mouth, I particularly like kissing him after he’s drunk my blood, and we may or may not have invested in flavoured lube for that exact reason -regular lube tastes disgusting. But it’s the first time we do it with _come,_ so I was a bit hesitant. I think it’d be strange to taste my own come but Baz seems to be enjoying the experience. Of course he does. A dirty bloke he is, that one. 

Eventually, I pull back, watching the way his throat moves, his Adam’s apple going up and down as he swallows, and then I’m lying next to him again, much like I was before I decided to blow him, with only the slight difference that now he’s on his back while before he was on his stomach.

He turns his head to look at me, a soft look in his eyes. He always gets sappy after sex. Nothing has ever equaled the complete debacle after our first time, when he ended up crying in the bathroom, but he _has_ cried while we cuddled afterwards more times than he probably cares to admit. Right now his eyes are shining a bit too much. I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw tears on his cheeks in a matter of seconds.

For the moment, though, all I see is his stupid smirk.

“You know darling, if I’m welcomed with such amazing sex every time I come back from Watford, I’ll come back more often.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz’s first night home. Everything is fine until it’s not

**Baz**

“Hey, Baz?”

Well, I thought we were going to sleep, but apparently not. The moon is high in the sky, and after our… previous activities one would think Snow would be tired, but he seems to want to have a chat. I don’t mind. I missed those late night talks with him. There’s something strangely comforting about holding him in the dark, the house completely silent except for the sound of his or my voice. 

“Yes?”

“Is Watford different now that Professor Bunce is Headmistress?”

Yes.

So very different. 

“Not so much. But she did change things. I think she wants to change more but since it has only been two weeks since the school opened, she didn’t really have time to implement new measures.”

“And what are the things that changed? Are they good changes?” he asks, curiosity in his voice.

He doesn’t sound bitter or sad. I’m glad. I’ve been hesitant to talk to him about Watford because I didn’t know how he would feel about that. 

“I’d say they’re good, yes. She gave us more freedom, basically. First of all we’re allowed phones and laptops and all of that now, not in class but around school or in the dorms it’s okay. If you’re in sixth year or older, you’re allowed to go to town when you don’t have class, even during the week, as long as you’re back before the drawbridge closes if you leave in the evening. That’s all about life at Watford, but that’s already a lot. Then of course there were changes made to the schooling at Watford. Under the Pitches, students had their exams in December and June like we had, but that only counted for half of their final grades. Homework and tests in class outside of exam weeks counted for the other 50%. Headmistress Bunce decided to bring that back. It’s better to make sure students work all year long. I think it’s a good thing because it puts less pression on us not to fuck up our exams, but most people are unhappy about this because they don’t want to make efforts. She has other changes planned, we’ve been warned that the syllabus would change when we come back after the holidays in January. I hope she’ll bring back Dark Arts. I’m not sure the Bunces are the greatest amateurs of black magic, but I think that she does value magic and despite its bad reputation, black magic is a high form of magic. Higher than white magic.”

He snorts. “Of course  _ you  _ would say black magic is better.”

His reaction doesn’t surprise me. 

I suppose the Mage told him how  _ awful  _ black magic and the people who practice it were without actually showing him what black magic could do. Without explaining what it is.

The Mage’s brainwash is still very ingrained in Simon’s brain. He’s losing a lot of his prejudice against the Families after seeing mine, but there are still many things that stuck with him.

“See, that’s the bad reputation I’m talking about. You think black magic is bad. There’s this stigma around it, which only causes more stigma because people think black magic is only for people with malicious intentions, but it’s not the case. Crowley, I could write an essay about black magic and how it’s just another form of magic and it should be taught in school just like white magic. I might do that and send it to Headmistress Bunce.”

That would actually not be a bad idea. And it would keep me busy at Watford when I’m not in class.

Simon chuckles softly, his hot breath on my chest. “Nerd,” he teases, kissing the skin closest to his mouth.

We didn’t bother with clothes.

I’m not exactly  _ warm _ , but I’m not cold either. I have Snow. And I could always pull up the covers if I needed to, but I’m certainly  _ not  _ going to suggest dressing up. I missed feeling his skin against mine. 

“I’d like to hear your little theory about black magic, though,” he says seriously, craning his neck to glance up at me. 

I cock an eyebrow at him. “You would?”

“Yeah. You know, to see another point of view, not to stay focused only on what the Mage taught me.”

I don’t really believe that. He has been open to changing his views on certain things, and he has made me change  _ my  _ view on certain things, but mostly, he avoids discussing topics on which we have diametrically opposed views. He doesn’t like arguing, and we’re both rather stubborn so debating isn’t the best thing for us to do. 

Besides his cock was in my arse half an hour ago. I doubt he’s in any mood to engage in great discussions right now. Small talk, yes. Not my “nerd” stuff. So he must have ulterior motives.

“And what’s the real reason?” I say as I absentmindedly trail my finger up and down his spine. 

He blushes. I knew it.

“Well, it’s kind of hot when you’re being all smart, you know. You’re so sexy when you’re serious, and it’s very attractive when you talk about something you’re passionate about.”

That seems more like it.

I hold back a smile as I give him my most dramatic sigh. “Do you ever think with your brain and not your dick?”

That gets me a punch in the stomach. He’s not punching hard though, I can barely feel it. 

“Stop being a prick and tell me your smart things. I want to listen to your voice. I might fall asleep though.”

“I’m going to be offended if you fall asleep while I’m talking to you,” I say in a playful voice.

I definitely  _ wouldn’t  _ be offended. I want nothing more than him to be comfortable enough with me to just fall asleep in my arms as I speak. 

“Oh come on, you exhausted me, you can’t complain if I’m tired.”

I can’t quite see his face but I’m sure he has a salacious smile on his face. Merlin. 

Sometimes I’m really glad he never had sex with Wellbelove. The jealousy would have killed me if I knew he was once like that with her too. It’s not even the fact that he touched her and that she touched him that would have bothered me the most. It’s the intimacy that came with the sex. Lustful eyes and dirty words whispered in the dark, like the most indecent of secrets. Knowing each other well enough to know where to touch, kiss, bite to get the best reactions.

“I exhausted you? I did most of the work.”

I did not. It’s always Simon. In bed much like he does everywhere else, he gives more than he takes. He prefers touching than being touched, even if he does love it when I touch him, and he’s very adamant about wanting to, quote unquote ‘make me feel good’. To put it simply, he’s more than fine with me just lying there enjoying what he does to me. He’s rarely on the receiving end of things. When I give him blowjobs, it’s more because  _ I’m  _ desperate to get my mouth on him, than because  _ he’s  _ desperate to have my mouth around him. 

“Yeah, you definitely did,” he snorts. Then, he changes positions until he’s lying like he does when he sleeps in my arms, his head more on my stomach than my chest, and curling himself up in a ball as best as he can with my body in the way. “Now, tell me why you think they should teach black magic at Watford. I’m  _ actually  _ interested.”

And so I start talking, and talking, and talking, my hand lost in his hair. 

I’m telling him that black magic is so much more challenging to practice, even for skilled mages, because the spellwork is nothing like that of white magic when I hear him snore softly.

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t know if it’s all this talk of dangerous spells before I fell asleep, or if it’s just my brain hating me, but I have a nightmare tonight. Of fucking course I do. 

I wake up with a jerk, as always, tears on my face, as always, his name on my lips, as often. 

Most of the nightmares have Baz in them. Not all, but most. The Mage and the Humdrum also are recurring figures in my nightmares, because they’re the ones hurting those I love. Penny and even my mum appear in some of the nightmares too, but much less often.

I move away from Baz as carefully as I can. Thank God he’s a heavy sleeper, because I’m  _ not  _ very careful when I’m trembling like I am now. 

Does everyone react so violently to nightmares? I’m always shaking and trembling and sometimes I even feel nauseous when I wake up from a bad dream. 

I drag myself to the bathroom, turning the lights on. They make my eyes sting even more than the tears, but it’s better than being in the dark. 

I don’t even try to calm myself. It won’t work. The more I try to relax, the worse it gets. So I just let the crying escalate into sobbing, pressing my hand against my mouth to muffle the sounds. 

After some time I’m trembling, but it’s not just a consequence of my nightmare. I’m just so bloody cold. That’s for sleeping naked in November, I guess. 

I look around the room, but apart from Baz’s bathrobe, there’s nothing to cover myself with, and as soft as the bathrobe is, it doesn’t do much when it comes to keeping someone warm.

My eyes fall on the bathtub. Taking a bath in the middle of the night is kind of extra but I can’t say hot water wouldn’t feel good right now. Besides, it’s relaxing. It might help with my crying. 

I walk to the bathtub, and turn the water on with a trembling hand. It makes so much noise. Fuck that was a bad idea.

But Baz probably won’t hear and his family are too far from the room for it to wake them up.

I let the water flow. 

Once there’s enough of it on the tub for me to get inside without having to feel the freezing material of the bathtub on my already cold skin, I dive in the water

The sudden change in temperature causes me goosebumps. It’s a bit unpleasant at first, but once my body accommodates to the heat of the water, I feel its effect on my muscles, making them less tense.

I’m still crying but at least the sobbing has stopped. I try not to think about my nightmare so that it won’t start again.

Instead I focus on enjoying my bath. 

It’s not a feeling I’m familiar with, being surrounded with hot water like that. At the care homes and at Watford, there are only showers, I’ve never set foot in a swimming pool, and the few lakes I had to dive in for missions were freezing cold. The first time I had an actual bath was when I was 15, at Agatha’s place, during the Christmas holidays. It was bloody brilliant. I haven’t had many ever since. Showers are quicker and they get the job done, so why would I bother with baths, huh?

Actually, the bath I took with Baz, all those weeks ago, was the second time I ever had a bath.

The memory brings a smile to my face. I must look like such a mess, with my bloodshot eyes and a smile. 

It was when Baz  _ really  _ drank my blood for the first time. It was so amazing. I hope he’ll let me give him my blood this weekend. I miss the feeling of his tongue licking at a wound, soothing it with whatever it is in his saliva that feels good. I miss the soft sound he makes when my blood first hits his tongue. I miss the peace I feel when he drinks. I miss the way my heart warms when I think of the fact that I’m doing something for him, that I’m pleasing him, that I’m  _ useful  _ to him.

I can’t say I don’t need to feel useful at the moment.

I was already not much use when I had my magic, but at least  _ I had my magic.  _ As fucked up as it was, it saved my arse and helped me protect people more than once.

Now I can’t protect anyone like that anymore. It’s quite the opposite, really. Without my too-powerful magic, I’m… vulnerable. Weak. Helpless. Fragile.

All the things I promised myself I would never be again on the day a lady from a care home I can’t remember the name of -neither the name of the lady or the care home- told me someone had come for me.

**…**

The water is starting to turn cold and make my fingers creased when I hear the door open.

Bloody hell, why does he have to be so discreet, I didn’t even hear him walk here. And yet here he is, as naked as he was when I left the bed, his half still half closed and a confused look on his face.

“What are you doing here?” he asks with a sleepy voice. “It’s 4 in the morning.”

I didn’t check the time when I woke up, but I didn’t think it was that late into the night. I fell asleep relatively early, probably around 10, I thought it was 2, at best.

“I had a nightmare. I felt like taking a bath.”

“Oh,” he says as he heads towards me. He doesn’t need to tell me to move so that he can settle behind me. Once his arms are around my waist and his chest against my back, he continues. “Do you want to talk about it? Your nightmare? How are you feeling?”

I tense. Why does he always want to  _ talk  _ about  _ feelings _ ? What's wrong with lighthearted conversations? 

“There’s nothing to say. It’s a nightmare. I freak out when I wake up, then I calm down and it’s fine.”

“Do you get those often?”

He won’t let it go, will it?

I sigh as I shift to nestle my head in the crook of his neck. He doesn’t smell of anything. The scent of cedar and bergamot has worn off a while ago. 

“Yes,” I say, and my voice vibrated against his neck. “Ever since Halloween.”

When I think about that night, or, in the worst cases,  _ talk _ about it, I say Halloween. It hurts less. It puts some distance, to think of it as ‘Halloween’ and not ‘the night when I lost my magic’ even if it’s one and the same. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because of the worry I can hear in your voice at this very moment, darling. 

“There was no point. It’s nightmares, Baz. There’s nothing you can do against nightmares.”

His hand rubs my stomach slowly under the water. It makes little waves appear on the surface whenever his arm moves, and creates faint, wet sounds. 

“I could cast a spell on you so that you would have a dreamless night.”

_ Cast a spell on you. _

I never enjoyed having spells cast on me. Penny’s magic is uncomfortable, so is the Mage’s, and even if Baz’s is more tolerable, it always makes me feel like a child, because normal mages can cast spells on themselves without trouble, because their magic isn’t messed up and uncontrollable _.  _ Now that I don’t even have this dysfunctional magic, I hate the thought of having a spell cast on me ten times more. 

Especially if Baz is the one casting it. 

It’s dumb, but some part of my brain can’t help but remember how Baz was before I saw who he really was, and mix that Baz up with my Baz. 

He spent so much time gloating about how perfect his spellwork was while I was just  _ useless _ . 

I don’t like feeling inferior to Baz. I already do enough when I think of how smart and beautiful he is.

“I don’t want you to cast spells on me. I don’t  _ need  _ you to cast spells on me.”

“But it could help, love,” he says with that patronizing voice that makes me want to strangle him.

He’s my boyfriend, not my bloody father or something. He doesn’t have to baby me like that. 

“Well I don’t want your help. I’m doing perfectly fine on my own,” I say shortly, moving my head again so that it’s only resting on his shoulder, much like it was before I buried it against his neck.

“Fine.” I hear him sigh, but he doesn’t stop stroking my stomach for all that. I wish we were in another position and I could be the one doing that. It makes him go all soft when I rub his stomach, and he lets out those sweet, pleased sounds that make my heart melt.

“We should get out of here,” I tell him after a few seconds of rather uncomfortable silence. “The water is turning really cold.”

“It’s fine.”

He grabs his wand where he put it on the edge of the bathtub. I can’t believe he thought to take it, when he didn’t even put his underwear back one. But it’s Baz. He lives and breathes magic. Of course he carried his wand. 

He points his wand at the water, and says “ **Some like it hot** .” before putting it back away.

I feel the fire of his magic around me, and this heat has only started to fade that the water is back at the same temperature as when I first went in.

It feels good because the water is warm, but it feels awful at the same time. Whenever someone - _ Baz  _ ; his parents do most things the Normal way-  uses magic, it’s like the hole inside me gets a little bigger. 

Is that how the Humdrum felt like?

Always capable of feeling other people’s magic, and being painfully reminded that he doesn’t have any? That he’s  _ empty. _

Because if that’s how he felt, I think I’m starting to understand why he would try to steal it.

It’s the worst fucking feeling in the world. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone calls and misunderstandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting early because I was feeling like it aha ^^
> 
> WARNINGS  
> Use of recreational drugs  
> Sexual content  
> the whole chapter isn’t smut, so you can still read it, but if you want to skip the smut, stop reading after “He doesn’t answer” and start reading again after “I can’t sleep” (Basically, skip Baz’s POV  
> But, and because it’s relevant to the story, just know that the sexual content consists of Baz masturbating

**Baz**

Simon is distant the whole weekend. 

Well, except for Friday night when we had sex. But after that, I can feel him being more withdrawn. He doesn’t physically withdraw that much ; he still sleeps in my room on Saturday night, we kiss a couple of times, but he’s not as clingy as he always was before… _before_. 

I’m starting to be like him now. I can’t even say it. 

I didn’t even try to broach the topic because I knew it would make him even more distant, but I really think he should stop pretending it doesn’t affect him. It obviously does. And I _know_ that talking is difficult, but he’s not helping himself by acting like Halloween never happened.

I just wish there was something I could do, but it’s already Sunday afternoon and I have to go. I feel like I’ve only been home for a minute, but the front door is closed behind me while I know I’ll find the entrance gates open when I get there.

I glance in the rearview mirror one last time, wishing I’ll see the door open on my beautiful disaster of a boyfriend, but nothing.

He didn’t say goodbye.

Well, he let me kiss him when I told him I was leaving, but he didn’t follow me outside like last time, and he didn’t tell me to call him tonight.

So I suppose I won’t.

**…**

**Simon**

The weekend is over much too soon.

I’ve barely gotten Baz back that he’s already gone again. It sucks, honestly. 

I kind of wish he hadn’t come at all.

Besides, I wasn’t really that comfortable with him. The time we spent together didn’t feel like the time we spent together before Halloween. It’s my fault, I know that, I’m the fuck up here, but it still hurts. I want things to be normal again, with Baz.

They are when we’re texting or on the phone.

They were when we fucked. 

But when we were actually together in the same room, with our clothes on, it was like he wasn’t my Baz. He still talked to me the same way, with that stupid posh accent of his and those pretty words I don’t know the meaning of, and touched me the same way, trailing his fingers up and down my side when we were lying down, and pressing his thigh against mine when we were sitting down. 

But there was this strange atmosphere between us. We were physically closer than we had been in weeks and yet it felt like he was more out of reach than when he was just a voice in the speakers or words on the screen of my phone.

I think that part of it is because of how careful he was all the time. I could feel he wanted to talk about Halloween the whole time, but that he was holding back. It was worse than if he had straight up asked me about it, honestly.

It upset me. Why can’t he bloody stop thinking about it?

Is it all he has in mind now, when his eyes are on me? My magic leaving my body? 

The thought makes me mildly sick.

I knew Baz wouldn’t look at me the same after I lost my magic. I _knew_ it.

He values magic so much, and I have none of it, of course he sees me differently. I’m just this pathetic, magicless mess now. Before I was a fucking trainwreck but at least I was _powerful._ He liked that.

I think of the euphoric expression he had on his face the first time I let my magic flow inside him. I think of how he told me times and times again that he loves the lingering smell of smoke my magic gave my skin, even when I wasn’t worked up. I think of how much he loved touching me because I was so warm.

Now I don’t smell of smoke anymore, and I’ve never been colder.

**…**

The first two days without Baz are fine. They’re pretty much like the two weeks before he came. I spend time with the girls, everything is fine. Baz and I chat a bit, through text messages, and it feels like talking to my Baz. He’s being a bit of an arsehole, but he still says those sweet things that make me feel warm inside, and when I tell him I want to stop talking or when he has to go do something else, he always finishes the conversation with “I love you.”. If we speak multiple times a day, I get multiple “I love you”s. 

I always have to send the first text, though. I mean, I guess it’s because he’s busy. When we were at Watford together, I had to start the conversations too. But it makes me feel like I’m bothering him so I wish he'd text first, sometimes. It’d also make me feel like he _wants_ to talk to me and not like he answers just because it’d be rude to leave me on read. 

So yeah, that’s the first two days.

But on the third day, I decide to call him, because he still hasn’t and I want to hear his voice. And see his face. That facetime thing truly is a blessing. I don’t understand what the Mage’s big deal with phones was, they’re wicked.

When he picks up, I see that he has propped the phone against something -my best guess is a book, or maybe the wall- because he’s at his desk, working.

I look at the time. 01:02 a.m. Why in Merlin’s name is he still working?

Since the phone is further than when he’s holding it, though, I can see his torso and that’s pretty great. He’s wearing a loose white shirt that gives me a nice view of his collarbones. They show _so much_. The hollowness between them and the place where his neck meets his shoulders is one of my favourite spots to kiss. I only kiss him on the right side, though. He doesn’t like being kissed too close to his bite marks form when he was turned, and they’re on the juncture of his neck and left shoulder. 

My eyes go back to his face when he speaks.

“Hey.”

He gives me a small smile. He’s so damn gorgeous, even on that small screen, it’s so unfair. 

“Hi. Do you want me to call back another time? You look busy.”

Please say no.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine.” Thank Merlin. “Simply don’t be offended if I write while we talk. I have to get this done before I go to sleep, and I’m exhausted so I probably don’t have much time before my brain stops working.”

As if his brain ever stopped working.

“What is it?”

I didn’t really have anything to talk about when I called, so I guess we’re going to go for small talk about his homework. I don’t mind. He could be reading me the ingredients written on a bottle of ketchup and I’d still be fascinated by what he says. There’s really something about his voice that makes me want to be hearing it all the time. 

“Poli Sci assignment. You’d think that with exams next week, the teachers would leave us alone now, but no. He gave it on Monday for tomorrow, can you believe that?”

It’s not often that Baz complains about schoolwork. He has a great organization, and he says that he doesn’t mind being overwhelmed by work because he works better under pressure.

“Why didn’t you do it earlier? It’s how you always do.”

It always irritated me. We got an assignment, he did it on the day it was given, or the day after if he was really busy. He didn’t wait for the last minute like me. 

“I was with Dev and Niall on Monday, and then I completely forgot this assignment even existed until Niall mentioned it this morning.”

“It’s not like you to forget assignments.”

He just shrugs. That’s also not like him at all. 

“My mind was busy with other things. Nothing serious, just… school. Headmistress Bunce has started giving us information about all the things she intended to change when we’d come back from Christmas break, and it’s a lot to process. But you don’t want to hear about that, that’s boring. Tell me about your day instead.”

I’m not sure that’s any more interesting, but he gives me an encouraging smile so I start talking. I talk and I talk and I talk as he writes and writes and writes, chuckling or rolling his eyes at some of the things I say.

We hung up a little bit after he put his pen down.

**…**

**Baz**

It was Dev and Niall’s idea.

They were tired of me always being in my room -“Snow’s not here, you have no excuse”- and they thought the best way to make me leave it was to suggest going to a party. I didn’t really want to go at first. I’m working on Simon’s Christmas present -well, one of them- and it’s more time consuming than I imagined, but then Dev mentioned Trixie was hosting the party and that convinced me. 

I don’t necessarily like her, but her parties are always great, thanks to her pixie dust.

The Coven never cared enough about magical creatures to worry about that, but pixie dust -much like vampire saliva, if the look on Simon’s face when I drink his blood is anything to go by- has some effects similar to those of Normal drugs. Without the addictive effects, though, which is probably why it hasn’t been forbidden to inhale it. 

Inhale it.

Which is exactly what I’m doing right now. 

It’s everywhere in the air, but you can get a more concentrated version if you ask Trixie. She just needs to rub her hands together over yours and quickly enough, you have a handful of sparkles on your palms. 

Snorting it isn’t exactly a sexy thing to do, but it’s not like I have to act sexy for anyone tonight. It’s not like Snow is… Nope, that’s exactly why I’m taking the pixie dust. Not to think about his absence. Not to think about him _._

**…**

**Simon**

I want to call Baz again. It’s only the third day since our last call, but the missing him is so much worse this time, for some reason. Especially since we called. 

It’s like having him on the phone, seeing him work and make the occasional snarky comments erased the memory of that worried Baz that irritates me so much. It was my Baz I called. The bloke who makes fun of me because I trip on my words and who raises his stupid eyebrow at me every ten seconds. Not the bloke who makes me feel like I’m a scared, wounded animal and he’s trying to reach out for me. 

I think about him so often since the call, and I’m always reminded that he isn’t here with me. That he’s off at Watford, and that he won’t be back before next Friday. 

It feels like it’s in forever, even if really, it’s just a week from now.

I hesitate a little bit longer. He has been taking longer and longer to answer my messages, I think I’m really starting to bother him when I talk to him, so I probably shouldn’t call but I _need_ to.

I grab my phone and I’m clicking on the contact with his name before I can overthink it.

He doesn’t answer. 

I try again, right after, and then five minutes later.

He doesn’t answer.

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t know how the fuck I ended up here, but when I open my eyes I’m in my bed, all dressed up in the tight jeans and dark button down I wore to the party. The last thing I remember is dancing with hands on my waist. I don’t know whose hands. I don’t even know if it was a girl or a boy. It doesn’t matter. Everyone is always touching everyone at Trixie’s parties. Pixie dust reduces your inhibitions to nothing.

And it doesn’t matter because I know it wasn’t _his._

Merlin, I’d sell my bloody kidney to feel his hands on my waist right now. To feel his hands anywhere on me.

I’m so hot everywhere, it’s not a feeling I’m used to, but the lower part of my stomach is particularly warm.

Fuck why am I horny I just woke up. I don’t even know what time it is but I’m sure it’s not an appropriate time to get a hard on when my very sexy boyfriend isn’t the one causing it with his devilish mouth and expert hands.

Ugh fuck I shouldn’t think about Simon right now. Nor about his hands or his fucking mouth and the things he does with it and…

Fuck those trousers are too bloody tight. I manage to slip my hands under my body a bit clumsily to unbutton my jeans, undo the fly, and tug them and my pants down just enough to free my cock.

I don’t even think, I just start rutting against the mattress like a fucking animal. I don’t give a fuck, no one can see me, and I’ll probably have forgotten that after some more sleep.

Since my hands are so conveniently close to my crotch, I slip one of them inside my pants to fondle my bollocks. Snow did that to me once and it felt bloody amazing. It’s not something I ever really did when I wanked, I focused on my cock, and if I used my other hand, it was on my nipples… Hey that’s not a bad idea.

Soon enough, my balls are rolling in one of my hands, the other pinching my nipples one after the other until they’re hard and sensitive, and my cock is rubbing against the bed sheets as fast as I can make my thrusts go. It’s so much and not enough at the same time. I feel like I’m going to die from the overstimulation if I so much as brush another erogenous spot, but I’m also aching for _more_. 

I know exactly what my body wants, and I know it can’t have it.

Snow’s cock. Buried so deep in my arse that I see stars. 

Fuck I need him.

I move my hand from my bollocks to my arse. It’s a bit complicated in that position and I don’t have lube but fuck all of that. I don’t care about some pain right now.

I feel like it’s going to kill me if I don’t get off soon and grinding against the mattress is good but it’s not doing enough. 

It’s hard to get one finger inside, and it burns more than it ever has -I was never desperate enough to finger myself without even a little bit of spit on my hand- but at least I can finally touch my prostate and... holy fucking shit it feels so bloody good. 

I throw my head back, shameless groans and moans coming out of my lips as I keep touching and touching and touching.

Whenever I feel the burn in my arse I wish it was Snow’s cock causing it. I love feeling him inside him. His cock is the perfect lenght, the perfect width, and he uses it so fucking well, knowing exactly how to position himself to hit my prostate with each thrust. I bloody miss his cock. I swear to Merlin he won’t have time to say hello before I take all of his fucking clothes off when I come back home next week.

I think of that. Of ripping his clothes off him. Of letting him hurriedly rid me of mine. Of being pushed down on the mattress and fucked hard and fast. Of his moans in my ear and his come inside me.

I come all over the sheets.

I fall flat on the bed, completely boneless and breathing heavily. My heart is pounding on my chest and I feel so sensitive everywhere. I barely have enough strength to get my finger out of my arse. 

I don’t think I’ve ever had such a mind blowing orgasm on my own. With Simon, yes, no doubt. But alone? That’s a first. 

Must be the pixie dust. It never affected me that much in the past, but I never directly snorted it like I did... yesterday? Earlier? I don’t know.

It takes me a few minutes for the haze in my brain to truly dissipate, but once it does, I realize the state I’m in.

I’m literally lying down on my own come because I fucked the mattress like a bloody barbarian, fingering myself dry.

That’s pathetic.

Hitting a new low everyday, Basilton, congratulations.

I honestly didn’t think that my… solitary moments could get any more pathetic than the time I got hard and had to rub one out quickly before bed because I went to the en suite after Snow took his shower and it smelled of him in there. He was in the room when I did, for Merlin’s sake.

But I guess that _having_ Snow and missing the feeling of having sex with him is much more sexually frustrating than _not_ having him and imagining what having sex with him must be like. 

I shake that thought. I have to stop thinking about sex with Simon in any way shape or form or I’m going to get a hard on again and I can’t have that. 

Instead, I tuck myself back inside my pants and trousers, which I close, and I grab my wand to spell the bed and myself clean. I’m getting sleepy and I’d rather not fall asleep with dried come on my silk shirt. 

Then I put my wand away on my desk and reach clumsily for my phone to check the time.

It’s not the time I see first.

It’s the three calls, the message on my voicemail, and five text messages from Simon.

**…**

**Simon**

I can’t sleep.

Baz isn’t answering and it’s worrying me.

What the fuck could he be doing on a Saturday night? It was too early when I called him for him to be asleep. Maybe we went to town? The curfew doesn’t apply on weekends. But he would have warned me if he went?

Right?

Why would Baz even _want_ to go to town? 

I’m still asking myself a million questions when my phone buzzes. I grab it so quickly I almost drop it.

It’s him.

It’s been 5 hours since I first called, but at least he’s calling back. Fucking finally.

He’s sitting on his bed, with only the light from the lamp on his desk lightening him up.

It’s enough for me to see how he looks, and fuck I wish I didn’t.

His hair is a mess, his shirt has three buttons open instead of the usual two, his cheeks are slightly flushed -which is the Baz equivalent of a red face- and his pupils are blown. I notice that he was wearing that black makeup thing on his eyes -eyeliner?- because it has smudged.

He looks… 

He looks like he does after we’ve fucked. He looks like he just got a very good shag.

I want to hang up. 

Is that why he seemed so off recently? Because he found himself someone else to fuck? Or is it just tonight? Dressed like he is, and with makeup on his face, I can only assume he was at a party or at a club and that’s why he didn’t answer the phone.

While I was worrying about him, that bastard was getting in some other bloke’s pants.

There’s no other reason why he’d look like that. I’ve seen him after he wanked multiple times. I’ve _made him_ wank in front of me. He never looked half as abandoned as he does right now. Only someone else could have caused that.

I feel sick.

“Hello?” he says, his voice having that deep, raspy sound it has after I made him scream my name.

I wonder if he screamed the other bloke’s name or if he just asked for _faster_ and _harder._ Or maybe the bloke was asking for faster and harder. _I_ never let Baz fuck me. Maybe that’s something he wants, and I haven’t been able to give him that yet. 

I’m not answering, so he continues, “Snow?”

_Snow._

I hang up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I’m sorry


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny gets involved in this mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter today because I finished it and didn’t want to wait for tomorrow 
> 
> Also I’d rather warn you, this week is the week of my exams so I doubt I’ll be able to post daily
> 
> Now about the chapter :  
> When they are texting, Simon is bold, Baz italic, and Penny bold and italic.  
> When they’re on the phone, I put Simon’s sentences in italic to try and make it less confusing.

**Baz**

I don’t know what’s wrong with Simon.

He called me multiples times, sent messages and even left a message on my voicemail, but when I call him he hangs up on me? And doesn’t even pick up when I call back?

[4:49 a.m.] _Love, what is it?_

**…**

**Simon**

The audacity of that motherfucker. 

_Love._

He calls me looking like he just had the best orgasm of his life and then he calls me love? 

I can’t fucking believe him. 

Was his bloke still in the room, grining at how fucking ridiculous that situation is? Did he shag him in the room, _our_ room in the first place or did they do it somewhere else? It’s not like there aren’t any spots where people go to fuck at school. I never went to one myself because I didn’t need to, because Baz and I had the room, but I still knew where they were. Surely Baz would too.

But I’m not in the room anymore, I doubt Baz would bother with one of those spots when he can just have the room. Perks of shagging blokes, I guess. They can come to your room. 

I feel a stinging pain in my chest when I think of some random bloke in our room, having sex with Baz. Some random bloke’s sweat and come on the bed sheets where I used to sleep. Some random bloke’s clothes on the floor where we put our mattresses, the night I realized Baz loved me, when he quotes that fucking movie.

_“I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”_

Bullshit.

Now he’s gone.

He _chose_ to go, it’s not like he had any real obligation to go back to Watford.

No I’m being unfair.

He asked if I was okay with him going. I said yes. I kept saying yes. It’s my own damn fault. I should have been selfish and kept him with me. He can’t cheat on me if he doesn’t see that there are so many people who are better options than me.

I’m at the bottom of the list of people who are good options for Baz.

I’m not even sure I’m on the list of people who are good options for Baz.

I don’t have magic, and Baz would never date a Normal.

I was never fun to be around, but I know that I’m even worse since Halloween.

The only things I have for myself are the fact that he loves me -at least he says he does- and that I know what stuff he likes in bed -at least some of it. 

But he could very easily fall in love with someone else, and it wouldn’t be hard either to find someone who fucks him better than I do. If I could learn what he likes, someone else could too. Someone more experienced who actually know what they’re doing.

His bloke probably knows what he’s doing. 

I wonder if it’s someone I know.

I mean, I know the face and name of almost everyone in our year, but I really _know_ few people.

And it might not even be someone from school. For all I know, he went to town and found himself some pretty boy there. It’s not like _Baz Pitch_ would have any difficulty pulling whoever he wanted. He’s the hottest fucking person to ever walk this earth.

I’m sure he was particularly hot tonight. He put makeup on, which looks bloody fantastic -I haven’t quite recovered from that time he wore some when we went shopping- and from what I could see when he called, he was wearing his black shirt. It’s not my favourite, but it’s the shirt he owns that looks the best on him, the dark silk -or is it satin? I don’t know the difference- looks wonderful against his pale, greyish skin. 

Slowly taking it off him, letting it slide down his arms, it’s simply magnificent.

And I guess that tonight, another bloke had the privilege of doing that. Of having Baz Pitch’s perfect body revealed to him as he took his clothes off. 

Of having Baz Pitch, full stop.

**…**

It’s 5:30 a.m. and I’m sitting on the kitchen floor eating chocolate and crying. 

Life is great.

It’s something I’ve done more times than I want to admit recently. When I have a nightmare, it feels better to be in another room, and the kitchen is where I can find snacks, so that’s where I go.

Except today I’m not here because of a nightmare.

Well, in a way, it is a nightmare. A nightmare come true. 

No, I can’t even say that. Baz doesn’t cheat on me in my nightmares. 

He hasn’t tried texting me since that one message he sent that I didn’t answer. I can’t say he was very determined. The fucker’s probably asleep right now while I’m here torturing myself because of him.

I wonder if he’s sleeping alone or if his bloke is staying the night. 

I put the chocolate back in the cabinet. I’m feeling sick.

I guess I’ll have to find something else to comfort myself. Something that often works is imagining strong arms around me, cold lips on my shoulder, and a voice as soft as the stupid shirts he wears telling me it’ll be okay. But that _won’t_ be giving me any comfort tonight.

Not when his arms are probably around someone else.

**…**

After some more crying and thinking things that make me feel slightly nauseous, I decide to text Penny. She isn’t up yet, it’s not even 6 in the morning, but I think that’s something I want to tell her. I can’t _not_ talk about it to anyone, and I absolutely can’t go see Daphne to tell her I think her son had sex with another bloke. 

[5:47 a.m.] **i know you don’t like when i talk about baz and that you don’t care about our relationship but i really need to right now so pls don’t ignore me. i think he cheated on me.**

**…**

**Penny**

I wake up to the strangest message I could ever receive from Simon.

I read it multiple times, to make sure it’s not my brain playing tricks on me because it’s still foggy with sleep, but not. He really wrote that.

He thinks Basil is cheating on him.

What the hell.

I frown at my phone as I unlock it to answer, trying to ignore Keris and Trixie’s annoying chatter and giggles. 

I don’t think I’d mind it _that_ much if they hadn’t already woken me up some four hours ago when they came back to the room in the middle of the night after their stupid party.

Who goes to a party two days before the exams start, honestly? 

[8:19 a.m.] **_First of all, I do care about your relationship, Si. You’re my best friend, of course I care about how things are going with your boyfriend. I just don’t want to hear about it ALL THE TIME. Now, tell me why in Merlin’s name you think Baz cheated on you?_ **

Because really, I’d like to know. They’re both so obviously in love with each other. I can’t think of a single reason why Baz would cheat, or why Simon would even consider it to be a possibility.

I get a reply almost instantly. Simon usually replies fast. He must have that phone in his hand all day long. 

[8:20 a.m.] **last night he wasn’t answering my calls or texts and then we he did call back he looked just like he does after we have sex**

I wince at that.

I know that sex is a normal thing in a relationship and that most couples have sex, but I could really live without _Simon_ telling me he has sex. He’s like my brother -except he’s a brother I actually like. 

My only consolation is that I’ll be able to make him pay next time I visit Micah. 

I quickly type out an answer. 

[8:20 a.m.] **_Is that all?_ **

[8:20 a.m.] **yes**

Merlin. He’s an idiot.

[8:21 a.m.] **_No offense, but that’s stupid. You can’t accuse Baz of cheating just because he didn’t answer your calls and he looked messier than usual_ **

[8:22 a.m.] **excuse me but i think i know what my boyfriend looks like after he fucked better than you do and that’s exactly how he looked like**

I sigh. I know I shouldn’t get irritated, Simon can get paranoid sometimes, but it’s just so dumb.

He was already like that with Agatha, he was so convinced she fancied Baz and was seeing him behind his back. And now he thinks Basil is seeing other people too. I think he needs to work on his trust. 

He wasn’t so wrong to doubt Agatha’s feelings, but it was _obvious_ that Agatha didn’t love him, while you’d have to be blind not to see that Baz does. 

The way they looked at each other that day at Baz’s place made me want to gouge my eyes out. 

I decide to stop trying to fight him over text and call him instead. Trixie and Keris are still here, and they’re nosy gossips, but they never care what I’m doing or what I say so they probably won’t even notice I’m on the phone. 

“ _Hello_?” he says, sounding surprised. He probably wasn’t expecting me to call him.

“I think you’re overreacting, Simon. You may have misinterpreted the way he looked. You can’t throw such accusations like that without actual evidence. Have you even asked Baz where he was last night instead of jumping to conclusions?”

“Baz Pitch?” 

Trixie’s voice startles me. Does she know where Baz was?

“Wait a minute, Simon, I’m putting you on speaker.”

“ _What, why?_ ”

“Just wait.”

I click on the button to put him on speaker, and then I look at Trixie. “What about Baz Pitch? Do you know where he was last night, Trixie?”

“Yeah, he was at my party. He came with Dev and Niall,” she answers, shrugging like it’s nothing. Like the whole school doesn’t know what happens at her _parties._ Like she didn’t just make Simon’s paranoia ten times worse. 

“ _At your party?_ ” 

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

She truly seems not to know what’s wrong with that. Merlin, that girl is so _dumb._

“ _Did he… I mean… your… um…_ ” 

The words won’t come out of his mouth. Typical Simon.

Trixie frowns. “What is it?”

“ _Did he take any pixie dust,_ ” he eventually blurts out, and I can practically see the flush on his face.

Pixie dust is known for its… special properties. Mostly, it rids you of your inhibitions, which is why a lot of young mages try to get their hands on it when they have parties ; it’s easier to find a hookup when everyone is shameless, and if you get rejected, you can blame your flirting on the pixie dust. 

I’ve also heard that on some people, it can work as an aphrodisiac if high doses are taken but I don’t go to those parties so I can’t know if the simple fact of having pixie dust in their system has ever truly caused someone to be aroused. 

“Yeah, he has,” Trixie answers with that same clueless voice. “Quite a lot actually. He asked for it three times. He was so eager.”

Aleister Crowley can she hear herself? It’s a blessing Simon knows Baz is gay, he’d have lost it if he was into girls and Trixie explained things _like that._

I can already tell that he isn’t okay. His breathing is a bit too heavy. I want to tell Trixie to shut up but Simon needs to hear what Baz did last night, to get rid of this nonsensical idea that he fucked someone else.

“ _And…_ ” Simon continues. “ _And do you know if he… uh… flirted with someone? Or multiple someones? And do you know if he left alone?_ ”

“Why all the questions?” Keris asks. I’d almost forgotten her. She’s lying behind Trixie, so I can practically not see her. “Baz is a big boy he can do what he wants.”

I’ve gathered from the conversations I’ve overheard that Keris and Baz chat sometimes. I didn’t even know Baz _knew_ her, but maybe it’s because they’re both gay or something. I guess that brings people together.

“It doesn’t matter why he’s asking. Please just answer, Trixie. It’s important,” I say, because Simon is probably panicking right now and even if he can’t go off anymore, who knows what disaster he can cause if he gets very upset. 

Trixie furrows her pink eyebrows a little bit more, thinking. Then, after a few seconds, she eventually speaks again. “He was dancing with Roman at some point. They were kinda hot, for blokes. I don’t know if they left together, though. There were so many people you know, I can’t keep an eye on everyone.”

Simon’s voice is trembling when he asks “ _When you say that they danced… how did they dance? Was it… were they… flirting?”_

He spits the word out like it’s an insult.

I hate that this is happening over the phone. I wish I was with him, and I could hold his hand and tell him reassuring things.

I still believe that Baz didn’t cheat, but now I can definitely see why Simon would think he did. It does sound suspicious, and I know that Simon always thinks the people he loves are going to leave him, eventually. He isn’t used to being cared for, truly cared for. He wasn’t his whole childhood. 

He was a complete mess when he came back to school in second year because he thought I’d have forgotten about him and wouldn’t want to be his friend anymore. Ever since, I’ve tried regularly reminding him that I love him and that I’m here, especially recently.

His fear of abandonment must be so much worse now that he knows that the Mage is his father and that he gave him up to the care homes because he didn’t want to bother with him. 

Trixie giggle.

Fuck, this won’t go well, will it? She has this glimmer in her eyes that’s always there when she’s gossiping with Keris. 

“I don’t know if they were flirting but they were pretty close. Grinding and all,” she says, chuckling and all, while Simon lets out a truly pained sound.

I want to strangle her.

Before I can tell anything to Simon to soothe him, I hear that he has hung up.

**…**

I don’t even bother calling Simon back. He won’t answer. Instead, I rush out of the room and run - _literally_ run, I must look ridiculous- to Mummers. 

I’m _so thankful_ I can get inside this damn building. Thanks mum. I go up the stairs as far as I can while staying discreet -sneaking inside Mummers House was risky when the Mage was Headmaster, but now that it’s my mother, it would really be a disaster if anyone saw me. 

I spell the door of Simon’s room open and see Basil asleep in his bed.

Alone.

Thank Merlin.

I don’t know what I’d have done if he had truly been here with another boy. I want to believe that he didn’t cheat, but I must admit I’m starting to have my doubts too. I have since Trixie mentioned _grinding and all._ You don’t _grind_ on someone else -or let someone else grind on you- when you’re in a relationship. 

I don’t walk closer to him to shake his shoulder like I’d do with Simon. Instead, I just call his name, louder and louder, until he wakes up with a jerk. 

“What the hell are you doing here,” he groans, his voice heavy with sleep, as he sits up in a more proper position. “It’s not your bloody dorm you have nothing to do in my room.”

He’s wearing clothes, not pyjamas, and his eyes are a bit foggy but I don’t think it’s just because he woke up five seconds ago. Trixie said he asked for pixie dust three times, and from what I heard, one dose is more than enough for someone to be relaxed and “enjoy the party to its fullest” -that’s what Keris and Trixie say.

“Get your arse in your car and drive to your place,” I tell him, making my voice as biting as I can.

I want to ask for explanations, and to yell at him a bit for how he’s making my best friend feel, but Simon needs him. In any other situation, I’d think that it’s a bit dramatic asking Basilton to drive all the way to Hampshire for a misunderstanding, but Simon is someone who feels everything much more deeply than the rest of us. There’s no in between with him, no nuance. From how panicked he sounded on the phone, I can only assume that he’s going to have a full on panic attack over this. It’s killing me to even think about it, and I wish to be wrong about this, but I know I’m not. Before, he had his magic doing this shielding when he was going through emotions too intense, and as bad as it was for him, it helped clear his head. He doesn’t have that anymore. He’s alone with his thoughts, without a way to escape them. 

This situation _has_ to be dealt with soon, but it can’t be done over the phone. Even if it’d be quicker, it won’t be enough for Simon. He needs to hear whatever Basil will say directly from him. To see him, to feel him. Touch grounds him. And it’s so much easier to lie on the phone than when you’re face to face with the person.

“Why would I do that?” Baz asks, already going back to his usual flat voice. 

I’m pretty sure he’s about to cock his eyebrow at me. I might actually get violent if he does. 

“Because I just had your _boyfriend_ on the phone, completely freaked out because he thinks you cheated on him.”

His face falls.

**…**

**Baz**

Is that why he was so strange when I called last night?

But… no it makes no sense. Why would Snow think I _cheated on him_ ? That’s so fucking stupid. He _knows_ I’ve never wanted or loved anyone but him.

**…**

**Penny**

“So unless you want him to make himself sick over you all week, go to your place and talk to him. Whether you did it or not, go fucking tell him the truth.”

I sound more angry than I mean to ; I wanted to be calm and pragmatic about this, but Simon isn’t doing well and I fucking hate that. He’s suffered enough, he doesn’t need Basil and his bullshit to hurt him even more. 

“I didn’t cheat on Snow for Merlin’s sake!” Baz shoots back immediately, fire in his grey eyes.

“I honestly couldn’t care less what you tell _me._ Tell that to _Simon_ instead.”

I bend down to take his shoes. It’s convenient, they’ve been discarded near the door where I’m standing. I throw them at him. One of them hits him right in the stomach, cutting his breath. Good.. “And be quick, because all he knows for the moment is that you had your little fun dancing with some other bloke while you were high on pixie dust and that you looked well shagged when he called you. He’s _hurt_.”

I see something change in his eyes when I say it. Anger turns into worry, and something that looks strangely like… like _guilt_.

Aleister Crowley, please let Simon be wrong about the cheating. It’ll shatter him if Baz _actually_ had sex with someone else, and it’s the last fucking thing he needs.

**…**

**Baz**

I promised Simon he would be okay now. I promised things would get better.

And _I_ made it all worse because I was selfish enough to go to that fucking party and get high instead of staying in my room and spending the evening on the phone with the boy I love -I assume that’s what he had in mind when he called the first time. 

I hate myself.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They t a l k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did I write this chapter instead of revising,,, maybe

**Baz**

I’m exhausted and I still feel a bit jittery from the pixie dust, but thankfully, I’m a mage. A few spells help me drive all the way back home without crashing. It also takes much less time than it should have, once again, thanks to magic. 

I’ve barely stopped the car that I’m out of it. I need to see Simon. I need to talk to him. To explain. I can’t have him believe I did something so terrible when all I bloody think about is how much I wish he was with me.

I _hate_ that he even believes it but being angry won’t solve anything. I could be hurt all I want about his lack of trust once _he_ won’t be hurt anymore. 

I don’t answer my parents intrigued questions as I slam the front door and run down the corridor. I’m not supposed to be here, after all. But I’m not going to lose one bloody second that could be spent with Simon answering their questions.

When I reach the top of the stairs, my feet instinctively take me to my room, but I remember that Snow has his now. So he’s probably there. 

And he is. I can hear the choked sounds he’s making through the door. It breaks my heart. I did that to him. I should have just waited until I fucking morning to call him. Why did I think it was a good idea to do so when I was still high and I had just wanked.

I don’t know how I’d react if the situation was reversed. If Simon was gone and called me up in the middle of the night after not answering my calls and he looked like he’d just had some amazing sex. But I probably wouldn’t like it.

The door is locked, of course. 

It’s not a problem, though. I simply spell it open, and then I’m walking inside. I don’t think Simon even noticed because he hasn’t made any move to look at me. Or maybe he simply doesn’t care that someone walked in. He surely isn’t expecting me.

The sight of him hurts. Well, not that I can see much of him. He’s completely buried under the covers, but I can tell he’s all curled up in a ball, hugging his knees. The sounds he makes as he cries are objectively soft, he’s trying to muffle them, but they ring in my ears like he was screaming at the top of his lungs. 

I head to the bed, and climb on it carefully. That’s when he seems to notice I’m here. He peeks his head from under the covers, all bloodshot eyes, tear-streaked cheeks and snotty nose. His eyes widen when he sees me, and he jumps. Then he’s messily trying to sit up, bringing his legs up to his chest and pining his back to the headboard, going as far away from me as he physically can as he lets out a surprised “Baz?”

“Bunce came to the room,” I try to explain calmly. “She told me that you had called her and that you were thinking I… I had…” I gulp. Fuck, it feels so wrong to say it. How could he fucking believe I’d do that. “ _Cheated on you._ ”

I see hurt flash in his eyes when the words leave my mouth, and his bottom lip starts to wobble. 

“Do you really believe I did that, Simon?”

He shrugs. Bloody hell. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” he eventually answers, and I feel both anger and sadness rise in me at the same time.

Anger because of the fact that he _truly_ thinks that. That he doesn’t trust me enough to know that I would never betray him in that way. 

Sadness because he looks so heartbroken as he say it. Because he looks like he can’t think of a single reason why I _wouldn’t_ cheat on him. 

The sadness outweighs the anger, though. Seeing Simon hurt is so much worse than anything else.

“Because I love you, Simon,” I tell him softly. It’s hard to control my voice with all these emotions overwhelming me, made even more intense by the remains of the pixie dust I took. I really took a lot. Fucking idiot. “I have you. Why would I want someone else?”

He’s all I’ve ever wanted. Being his was my heart’s greatest desire, how could I ever want to let that go? No other is worth losing Simon Snow for.

Even if he’s a complete mess, and being with him isn’t easy. Because _I’m_ a complete mess and being with _me_ isn’t easy either. We match. 

“Because you could have so much better!” he shouts, his voice breaking at the end as he buries his face in his knees. “You’re… you’re so beautiful and smart and you’re awesome at magic and I can’t think of a single thing you’re not skilled at, you’re amazing, you could have _any bloke you want_ there’s no way you would settle for someone as fucked up as I am.”

Doesn’t he realize that _I’m_ the lucky one in this relationship? That _he’s_ the one who shouldn’t settle for me, because he deserves so much better? That he’s the best thing that ever happened to me?

His hands tremble as they grip his trousers tightly. I reach out and try to take one of them. I’m excepting rejection. He doesn’t let me touch him when he’s upset, lately, and he’s upset because of me. 

So when I feel his hand close around mine, squeezing it in a way that would most certainly hurt if I didn’t have such high pain tolerance, I’m surprised.

“First of all, I think I win as the fuck up in this relationship.” That makes him snort. Good. “As for the fact that you think I could have _‘better’_ ... have you considered that no, I couldn’t, because you’re perfect for me? _You_ are the best boyfriend I could ever hope for. _I love you_ , Simon. I love you so much I feel like it’s going to kill me, sometimes. I still can’t believe my luck. There are days where I wake up and I think I’m going to realize that this was all just a dream and you were never truly mine. So _no_ I couldn’t have so much better, and _no,_ I didn’t cheat on you, love. Do you want me to tell you what happened last night? I can do it under spell if you want. Cross my heart, or even a bloody truth spell if you wish, I don’t care as long as you believe me.”

“Cross my heart is a spell for promises it doesn’t make you say the truth,” he mumbles as if _that’s_ the important part of what I said. 

It’s endearing to hear Simon trying to correct me about magic, though.

“Well, I can promise that I won’t lie and use Cross my heart to seal this promise. Come on, answer the question,” I say, rubbing his hand with my thumb -it’s the only one of my fingers that he isn’t currently crushing. “Do you want me to use a spell when I tell you?”

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t know.

Penny sent me a message, probably after she went to Mummers to tell Baz to come here, and she said that if Baz explained himself I should trust him.

I want to trust him, I really do.

But the last time I trusted someone I love to be telling me the truth, I found out that all he had ever done was lying to me. That I’d been believing a lie for years.

But Baz isn’t the Mage.

But Baz knows how to lie. He knows how to hide things. He hid that he was a vampire for _years._

But it’s not the same thing.

And he wouldn’t drive all the way here just to serve me lies, right?

“No. It’s fine. Just tell me what happened.”

**…**

**Baz**

I can’t hold back a relieved sigh. I was a bit scared he’d ask me to use a spell. 

I want him to believe me because he _trusts_ me to say the truth, not because he knows I’m compelled to do so because of a spell.

He moves his head so that his face isn’t hidden in his knees anymore. Instead, his chin is propped up on them, and I can see him again. He’s still crying, but he doesn’t look as sad as when I arrived.

I bring his hand to my lips to kiss it. 

“Niall and Dev came to the room because they were fed up with me. I’d been locking myself in there practically all week long whenever I wasn’t in class, and they wanted me to leave my bed and go have fun. I wasn’t really interested but then they said that the party where they wanted to go was hosted by Trixie, and well… I guess you know that Trixie’s parties have a certain… reputation, at school.”

He wince at that. I expected it, to be honest. Simon doesn’t even drink, I doubt he’d condone drugs -even though no one wants to call pixie dust a drug. 

“So anyway. I went because I knew I could get some pixie dust, and I wanted that.”

“Why?”

I give him a small smile. “To feel good. To stop thinking.”

“You never stop thinking.”

“Which is why I needed the pixie dust to help me make my brain shut up. I was just… all I could think about was _you_ and how I couldn’t wait for the holidays to see you again. It was starting to feel stifling. I like thinking about you but I don’t like thinking about you like that. Thinking about you isn’t supposed to make my chest hurt.”

“You could have called me,” he says as he squeezes my hand. It startles me but I try not to let my surprise show. 

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

I never text Simon first or call him because I’m afraid he isn’t going to answer. Just like he’d tell me to go away or stayed silent when I tried coming to him room, when I was still home and not at school.

If he starts the conversation, I know that he wants to be talking and that he doesn’t feel pressured to. I don’t want him to tell me I’m _pushing_ him again.

“You wouldn’t bother me. I don’t do much all day, and after dinner I’m just in my room. I’d like it if you texted me or called me, when you miss me or just when you want to talk. _I_ feel like I bother you when I text because you never do it first. Whatever. Keep telling your story.”

“Just so you know, you never bother me either, love. But, as for last night, I must admit I don’t remember much of the party in itself. I remember drinking a lot, and inhaling a lot of pixie dust, probably more than I should have. The rest… it’s more… impressions. I remember the blinding lights and the deafening music and I remember _heat._ You know I’m always cold, so it’s strange for me to feel warm. And… I won’t lie… I remember someone touching me. Hands on my waist. I… I don’t know more, I’m sorry. I promise that’s the truth, if I remembered them doing something to me or me doing something to them, I’d tell you, but I can’t remember more than their hands. I couldn’t even tell you if it was a boy or a girl.”

Something changes on his face, but he doesn’t look very betrayed or hurt. It’s a relief. 

“It was a boy. When I was on the phone with Penny, she put me on speaker so that I could talk with Trixie and she said you danced with a bloke named Roman. And she said there was some grinding involved, too.”

I feel the blood I have in me rush to my cheeks. 

I’m never taking that much pixie dust at once ever again.

I try remembering what Simon is talking about, try remembering the person the hands belong to grinding on me but I _can’t_ . Fuck I wish I could. I wish I could remember all of that damn night. At least I could tell Simon exactly what happened, and especially tell him what _didn’t_ happen.

To be honest, I’m a bit concerned, now that he said who it was who danced with me.

Roman. I only have two classes in common with him, but he has still left me a long lasting impression, to say the least. Mostly, it’s because he _flirts_ with me. It’s never anything too obvious, you don’t flirt with someone openly when you’re queer at Watford, but I could still take the hint. I’ve tried making him understand it was not possible, at first because I was too busy pining over Simon Snow to want anything from anyone else, and now because I have a _boyfriend_ so I don’t want anything from anyone else. But apparently, _he_ didn’t take the hint, if I ended up with his hand on me.

I’ll really have to have a serious conversation with him if I go back to school.

“I’m so sorry, Simon. I… I know that it doesn’t mean anything, but I’m truly sorry. It’s not an excuse, but I was drunk and high and I didn’t know what I was doing, but I _promise,_ I didn’t sleep with him. Whatever happened with Roman, it didn’t go further than dancing. There was no one else in my room when I woke up. I was alone, Simon. If anyone had been there, I’d have smelled it, and it only smelled like Dev and Niall. I promise. And… I… As for the way I looked when you called me… It was _not_ because I slept with someone else, Simon. I… the truth is… Merlin it’s embarrassing… the pixie dust, it… it made me…” I clear my throat. It’s much easier talking about sex when I’m asking him to do dirty things to me than when I’m trying to explain that I pathetically wanked thinking about him because the pixie dust made me horny. “I was aroused, and so I… I was _alone_ , Simon.”

“So you wanked,” he says with a flat voice.

“Yes.”

“Why are you embarrassed? It's not like I don’t know that you do,” he says with a shrug. The hand I’m not holding goes up to his face to wipe his cheeks. “I’ve _heard_ you want for practically a week straight when you had your fun being a tease. But you never looked like you did when you called when you touched yourself. You only looked like that when _I_ touched you.”

He’s muttering again. 

Merlin, is this how this all started? He’s a disaster. I’d die for him, but he’s a disaster. 

“Let’s just say it felt particularly good last night. Much more than usual. I guess it’s the pixie dust again. It must have made me more… sensitive than I normally are.”

“You’re very sensitive,” he says, the shadow of a smirk on his lips.

Fuck, I like that much better than when he was crying.

“So there was really no one else?” he asks after a few seconds, his blue eyes locked on mine. 

**…**

**Simon**

I want to believe him.

Baz has been perfect since we started dating.

Deep down, I _know_ that he wouldn’t cheat.

But it’s like my stupid doesn’t want to accept it.

Like it’s determined to ruin every fucking thing that’s right about my life.

**…**

**Baz**

I shake my head. “There was no one else. Never has been, and never will be. It’s only you, Simon.

“But if there ever was someone else…”

Merlin, will he let it go? Why does he think I’m going to fall out of love with him?

I’ve _tried_ falling out of love with him for years. I’ve spent an entire summer trying to wank my feelings away. See where it led me. 

“There _won’t_.”

“ _If_ there was someone else,” he says again, pulling the little bobbles on the sleeves of that damned _black_ cardigan. His eyes are fixed on his fingers and not me anymore. “I want you to tell me. It’ll hurt less if you tell me you want someone… if you tell me you _love_ someone than if I find out on my own.”

“It won’t happen, Simon. I’ve only ever loved you. I’m not sure I’m capable of loving another person like I love you. But yes, _if_ it happened, I’d tell you. I wouldn’t cheat on you. I’m not that cruel.”

He nods. “Okay. Thank you.”

It’s a bit weird that he’d thank me for something like that, but I’ll take it. I don’t really care how weird things get as long as he isn’t crying and isn’t still convinced I fucked another man. 

He finally looks back at me. “Can we… uh… I mean… if you don’t have to go now… Can we cuddle a bit?”

I’m pretty sure I sound a bit too eager when I say “Yes, of course.”

I lie down first, because I know he’ll want to cling to me. He says he likes listening to my heartbeat. I don’t have much of a heartbeat, it can’t be relaxing to listen to, but I’m down for whatever pleases him. Quickly enough, his head is on my chest, one of his legs between mine, and one of his arms slung around my waist. It’s familiar. It feels amazing.

I miss his touch so much when I’m at school.

Because I don’t know what to say but I don’t want to stay in silence, I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind. “Don’t I smell too much? I didn’t take a shower before leaving.”

“You don’t sweat, Basilton. You can’t smell,” he says, and I can picture the playful smile on his face.

“I can’t, but my clothes can. I haven’t changed either when I felt.”

“I noticed. You were already wearing that shirt when you called. It looks amazing on you. I imagined someone else taking it off of you.”

My hand clenches in his hair. He groans a bit. 

“It didn’t happen, love.”

“Yeah, I know now,” he says, pressing his face against my shirt a bit more. I half expect him to complain because I don’t smell like my ‘posh products’ right now. “I’m sorry I overreacted about all of this,” he adds after a moment. “I’m so scared of losing you.”

It breaks my heart to hear it. 

I’m so scared of losing him too. So scared that one day he’s going to realize that he doesn’t want to be with me, that it was all a big mistake. 

I never really considered Simon could have the same fear, because I never considered leaving him as an option. If things were to end between us -please Merlin, may they never end- it’d be because he doesn’t want me anymore, not the opposite. 

I resume stroking his curls. “You won’t lose me, Simon. I gave you my heart with the firm intention not to ever take it back. It’s yours, forever. _I_ am yours forever.” His arm is tight around me now, and I feel him press a kiss on my chest. “And you didn’t overreact,” I add. “You reacted in adequation with what you thought to be true. Aleister Crowley, if I thought you had cheated on me, I’d have gone mad.”

“But you didn’t cheat. So I overreacted. I… I made a big deal of things for no reason. Bloody hell, you even drove all the way here just because I was making myself sick over nothing when you have such better things to do. Your _exams_ start tomorrow, you should be at school instead of dealing with my bullshit.”

I’m going to strangle him. We dealt with the cheating thing, I won’t let him get upset over something else.

“I’d take dealing with your bullshit over school any day. I already told you, you matter so much more than school. Which makes me think ; are you still okay with me go back? Answer the question with your true feelings. Don’t think of me or of what you think school means to me. I just want _your_ truthful answer. Do you want me to stay?”

**…**

**Simon**

No.

Yes.

I don’t know.

**…**

**Baz**

He takes a few seconds to think about it.

“I’m fine with you going, if we set some ground rules.”

“What rules?”

He lets go of my waist to show me his hand. He raises his thumb. “One, if you want to text or call me, text or call me. No holding back because you think you’ll bother me.” Then his index finger. “Two, slow down on the pixie dust. I can’t forbid you to go to parties or to take it, but I’d like it if you could at least take enough that you still know what you’re doing. Is that okay?”

“Yes. Anything to make you comfortable. But you’re sure that that’s what you want? Once again, I don’t care if you want me to stay. I’ll just go to school to tell Headmistress Bunce I’m dropping out, and I’ll come back home to you.”

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t want to take his life away from him. I can’t get used to having him with me all day long, for weeks and weeks. We’ll have to be adults next year. Go to uni, or work jobs. We won’t be together 24/7. We might not even live together, it’s not something we’ve talked about yet. 

So it’s better getting used to it now, so that next year will go smoothly. 

Next year.

Next year has to be good, to make up for _this_ year.

Next year is the limit I’ve fixed myself.

I can be as fucked up as I want until summer break. After that, when Baz and I move to London, I have to have pulled myself back together and be a functioning fucking person.

And I want to pull myself back together without Baz to help me put the broken pieces of me back in their place. 

I have to do it myself, I can’t rely on him for everything.

“I’m sure.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz have a call  
> Baz have a chat with one of his classmates after an exam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just going to say sorry in advance

**Baz**

He said I could call if I wanted.

That means I _can_ call if I want, right?

But it’s late so he’s probably sleeping already or relaxing before bed. I don’t want to bother him.

But he said I wouldn’t bother him if I called.

But he probably meant that as in I wouldn’t bother him if I called during the afternoon or evening, not at night.

I’m not going to call him. 

Instead, I get out of bed, and I go open the window. The chilling wind makes me shiver. Good.

Then I’m on my way to rummage through my bags and drawers until I finally put my hand on my cigarettes. Fiona bought them for me the last time I visited her in London this summer. I don’t smoke enough to buy cigarettes myself, but I don’t say no when my aunt gives me a pack. 

Then I sit back in bed, in the dark -perks of being a vampire, I don’t need the lights turned on to see- with my covers over my knees and my cigarette between my lips. I light a fire in my hand and use it to turn the tip of my cigarette red. I can hear Father’s disapproving voice in the back of my head “For Crowley’s sake, Baz, you are flammable.”. He didn’t appreciate catching me smoking, but I don’t know if it was really just because of the fire involved in smoking or if he also didn’t like me _smoking_. I know that he doesn’t like that Fiona smokes. He always makes sure to make a comment about it when she’s at the manor, nothing pisses her off more, especially since I have tended to side with Father. She shouldn’t smoke near the kids. 

I exhale a puff of smoke and a stupid smile grows on my face when the familiar smell hits my nose. 

He doesn’t smell of smoke anymore, but it’ll always remind me of him still.

I keep smoking, shivering when the wind blows a bit too much, and hoping this will make me miss Simon less.

**…**

It doesn’t.

It’s been fifteen minutes, and it just feels like the pain in my chest gets worse and worse every second instead of being relieved by my pathetic attempts to pretend Snow is here with me. 

I let myself fall back, my head on the pillow, and the cigarette still burning in my hand. I don’t really want to smoke, it was just for the smell. I just have to be careful where the hot ashes fall. It would be a pity to die like that. 

I wait a few more minutes, and then I give up. I grab my phone, and I’m facetiming Simon before I can look at the time and feel guilty that I’m calling him so late. He goes to bed much earlier than I do, but that doesn’t mean he goes to bed _early_ , after all.

I prop the phone against the wall, and turn on my side, waiting to see if he’ll pick up.

He does.

The light in his room is still on, and his eyes don’t look like they just had to suffer the sudden burst of brightness, so I suppose he didn’t turn it on when he saw I was calling and was therefore not sleeping. Good, at least I didn’t bother him. 

“Baz?” he asks, a tenseness to his voice, probably wondering why I’m calling him at… damn it’s 1:30 already?

“Hey,” I tell him with a smile.

He visibly relaxes. “It’s the first time you call,” he says, sounding quite glad about that. 

“I was missing my amazing boyfriend.”

It’s past midnight. It’s okay for me to be disgustingly soft with him. Nothing that happens between midnight and the sunrise should be held against you. 

His face breaks in a grin. He’s so beautiful. 

“I like it when you call me your boyfriend.”

“Well, that’s what you are, isn’t it?”

I thank Merlin for that every day.

“But you don’t say it often, so it feels nice. Anyway, you said you missed me? I’d like to hear more about that.” There’s pride in his voice as he says it. 

I roll my eyes at him, but I can feel a smile tugging at my lips. 

“I did miss you. It’s silly, I saw you on Sunday and I’m going back home soon, but I still do.”

“It’s not silly. I miss you too, even if we’ve seen each other recently. Is there something in particular that made you miss me?”

I see him starting to change positions to lay more comfortably, so I let him do that before I speak. He ends up on his side too, but on his left while I’m on my right. It’s like he was lying right besides me and we were looking into each other’s eyes, except he’s miles and miles away from me and I can’t reach out to touch him like I could if we were in the same bed.

“There is, actually,” I eventually answer. “I had my history exam today. The subject was on my family’s downfall as leaders of the World of Mages. It reminded me of when we did your essay.”

“God, it feels like it was years ago.”

“I know right? And yet it wasn’t even three months ago. Time flies.”

“It really does. But isn’t it a bit weird that they’d give your class a subject about that when _you’re_ in the class? That doesn’t seem fair to the other students.”

He already said it was unfair when we had this essay. 

“It’s not my fault I was born in a family that’s featured in history books. Besides, we’re interrogated on things we’ve studied, so the others know the content we have to put in that test as well as I do, if only they made the effort to learn their lessons.”

“I still think it’s unfair,” he says, because of course, he can’t say I’m right. It might kill him.

Another particularly cold breeze of wind comes through the window and I shiver. It makes Simon frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing. It’s just that the window is open, and the wind can be quite violent sometimes.”

“The window? Why in Merlin’s name would the window be open? You fought me about that goddamn window for _years_ don’t tell me that now that I’m gone you keep it open.”

He’s starting to get riled up. It’s cute. 

“I told you I missed you. Having the window open, it reminds me of the nights when I didn’t win and you left that bloody thing open all night long, even in the dead of winter knowing fully well I was freezing.”

He shakes his head. 

“That’s cute Basilton, but you’re an idiot.” 

I don’t know what it is with my full name recently, but he’s called me Basilton instead of just Basil when he was making fun of me more often in the last few days. I don’t mind. It doesn’t sound so pompous on Simon’s lips. I still don’t like the ring of my name but it doesn’t sound so bad when he’s the one saying it.

I give him a very offended look as I press my wrist on my forehead. “I can’t believe you’d call me that. I’m wounded. Betrayed. Heartbroken.”

It makes him laugh, and quickly, I’m laughing with him. 

“You’re an idiot _and_ much too dramatic,” he adds, his eyes shining beautifully. “Now go close your window.”

“No.”

“Baz.”

“No, it reminds me of you,” I say, pouting.

He bites back a smile. “I’m right here. You don’t need that to be reminded of me. Go close the window before you freeze to death.”

“I’m a vampire. I don’t think I can freeze death. I _am_ dead.”

The look in his eyes becomes fiercer. He doesn’t like when I say I’m dead. He doesn’t like my self-deprecating comments in general, but those about me being dead -because I am- or not having a soul -because I don’t- particularly irritate him. 

“You’re not dead. And go close that damn window, Jesus Christ.”

I give him a smirk. “You’re hot when you swear like a Normal.”

I used to find it endearing, how the Normal swear words always end up coming back to him, no matter how much he tries swearing like a mage all the time. Because it was so _Snow._ Some mages -like my aunt- like using Normal swears to be “cool”, but it sound strange in their mouth. It doesn’t in his. 

Now I find it quite hot, because when we’re having sex, he’s too far gone to think of his words, so I only get to hear a confused flow of Normal swearing. 

“Oh my God and you dare say I’m horny all the time.”

“Hey, you haven’t fucked me in almost two weeks, that’s a long time,” I tell him as I _finally_ stand to go close the window. 

He’s right, I’m going to freeze if I don’t.

He speaks louder to make sure I can hear him even if I’m not in sight -he doesn’t need to. Vampire hearing. 

“Good thing you’re coming home this weekend, then.”

I walk bad to the bed and pull the covers over myself. 

I haven’t cast a spell on them yet. Before I go to bed, I always cast a **You’re getting warmer** on my covers, since I don’t produce the body heat necessary to make the covers all hot like a normal person’s body would. 

When I was little and my father didn’t seem in too bad of a mood, I’d slip under his covers in the morning, just to feel the heat of them. Sometimes he was in the bed too, and he'd hug me if he was feeling particularly well, or he'd just lay in silence. Sometimes he wasn’t in the bed but he’d find me when he’d come back to his room, and he'd scoop me up to tickle me when he was feeling particularly well, or he’d go sit on the sofa in silence. 

“Is it a good thing?” I ask him once I’m settled, mimicking his playful smile and tone. 

“Oh, for you yes. I have to give you a reward for how hard you worked this week for your exams. And make you relax after all this tension, of course.”

I feel myself getting warmer, but not because of the covers. 

“A reward, huh? Do I get to choose it?” I ask, playing along.

“That depends, what perverted idea do you have in mind?”

“Who says it’s perverted?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

He tries, and fail, to imitate me. It’s adorable. “I say it’s perverted. You’re always finding new weird shit you want to try.”

“I don’t see you complain.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not complaining. Are you going to answer, though? What is it that you want to do?”

“Nothing particularly weird, mind you. I was talking with Niall…”

“You talk about _sex_ with Niall?” Simon gasps, giving me a truly bewildered look.

He’s an idiot.

“He’s my best friend, Snow. Of course I do.”

“He’s shagging your _cousin._ ”

“Yeah, I try not to think about that part. Do you and Bunce not talk about sex? Ever?”

“Merlin, no. She looks seconds from vomiting if I so much as _mention_ that you and I have sex. And I don’t think Micah and her have ever done anything, so she has nothing to tell me, really,” he shurgs. “Whatever. So, you were saying? You were talking with Niall, and...?”

“And he said that he liked it when he was blindfolded because the feelings were exacerbated. So I was thinking we could try that, and that maybe you could also… tie my hands.”

He grins at that. I knew he would. He likes it a lot when I can’t touch him or myself. _Especially_ myself. He’s a monster. I love it.

“That does seem like a good idea. I’d _love_ to have you spread out in front of me, not able to touch, not able to see. Just able to feel all the things I’m doing to you.”

He makes his voice lower when he says it, the bastard. 

It triggers some primitive part of my brain that makes me want to take his clothes off. But he’s not really there so I _can’t._

“I called you because I couldn’t sleep because I missed you and now I won’t be able to sleep because I’m horny. Thank you, Snow, really. My exams will go _so well_ tomorrow,” I say, sounding much too irritated for someone who’s enjoying this conversation as much as I am.

He laughs. 

“Well, it’s not because I’m not physically with you that I can’t help you get off.”

Is he…?

“Are you suggesting phone sex?”

He shrugs again. It’s all he does. Thank Merlin we facetime and don’t just call.

“Because if you _are_ suggesting phone sex, I’m sorry but I’ll have to decline.” He looks disappointed. “As I’ve _just mentioned_ , I have exams tomorrow. Well, in a few hours really. I have to get some sleep. I definitely won’t be able to if we do that. But I’m down for it some other time.”

“Nice.”

Only Simon Snow would answer “nice” to that. That moron.

“Since you have to go to sleep,” he continues after a short silence. “I thought that maybe I could turn off the lights of my room and you could, you know, try to fall asleep. I could talk if you want or just stay silent but you know, if we stay on the phone, it’s kinda like falling asleep together?”

He has this adorable uncertainty to his voice, as if he’s afraid I’m going to think that’s a stupid idea.

It’s a _splendid_ idea. It’s so hard falling asleep when I can’t hear him breathe. 

“I’d like that. Just staying together, there’s no need for you to talk. But will you stay up long enough to end the call? You don’t usually fall asleep before I do.”

“I took a nap with Ophelia this afternoon. She snuck in my bed as I was watching some show and simply demanded that I let her sleep here. She crawled on me and it was just so adorable I gave up what I was doing to just hug her instead and I ended up falling asleep,” he explains, a pink tint on his cheeks.

I hope my eyes aren’t aren’t as soft as I think they are, but the mental picture I have of Simon sleeping with my little sister asleep on his chest is just too cute.

“So yeah, I’m not really tired now so it’ll be fine. Go to sleep, Basilton.”

“Shh, don’t call me that. 

“It’s your name.”

“It’s ugly and we both know it.”

“It’s still your name. Want me to call you by your _first_ name instead?”

I wince. “I’d rather not.”

I love you mum, but _Tyrannus,_ honestly?

Simon gives me a smile. “I’m going to turn the lights off now.”

I watch as he disappears from the screen, listen as he walks to the light switch, blink when his screen suddenly turns dark, listen as he comes back and lies down like he was doing before. 

“Good night, Baz.”

“Good night, love.”

**…**

Why did I take Political Science?

Ah, yes, because my whole family were politicians and I’d be a shame to my last name if I didn’t study some politics before I become a pathetic, underpaid elementary school teacher -Fiona’s words, as if the woman hasn’t been living off of Daddy’s money for most of her life and isn’t a much bigger shame to the Pitch name than I am.

That exam was so damn complicated. I should have expected it. The Poli Sci teacher hates us. _Objectively._ Even me. And the teachers who worked here when my mother was Headmistress usually adore me.

I finish putting my things back in my bag, and then I head out. Niall and Dev had their own exam at the same time, but in another room, and they said they’d meet me here, so I simply lean against the wall, waiting.

It’s not long before I feel a hand on my shoulder, which startles me. My eyes fly to the owner of the hand.

“Hello, darling,” he says, all bright smile and shiny blue eyes.

“Roman,” I answer, sounding as bored as I can as I shrug his hand off.

According to Simon, the hands on my waist at Trixie’s party belonged to him too. He’s touched me enough for a lifetime. 

He smiles a little wider. His teeth are so white I wonder if he used a spell to whiten them. 

His hair falls in pale blonde waves in front of his eyes. He looks truly stunning. If I’m being honest, I probably wouldn’t have rejected him if I wasn’t so hopelessly in love with Simon Snow. But I am. 

“What do you want?” I ask, practically whispering. There aren’t any students around, and the teacher who was watching us as we took our exam is gone too, but who knows. I don’t want to be outed because of Roman. “I think I’ve been clear enough about the fact that I did not want to have anything to do with you.”

“Hm, that’s not what you were saying on Saturday,” he answers, twisting my hair around his finger.

I slap his hand away as my heart starts beating faster in my chest.

“Nothing happened on Saturday,” I shoot back with as much confidence as I can muster, keeping my voice controlled and my eyes as cold as they always are.

“Oh come on, don’t play hard to get. I know you’re not a prude. I simply want to continue what we started back then. I’m sure you want it too,” he says, his eyes full of innuendos.

I freeze.

I don’t fucking remember Saturday night. Did I forget something important? Did I…

“We didn’t start anything.”

I sound much less sure this time.

It must increase his own confidence, because he puts his hand on my cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking my bottom lip, and his icy blue eyes boring into mine.

I’m too paralyzed to even _think_ of pushing him away.

“But we did, darling,” he says with a sweet voice that sends a shiver down my spine. “You looked _ravishing_ on your knees.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter was supposed to be just the phone call, while Baz’s entire interaction with Roman should have been in one chapter and not split between two, but then the little voice in my head said “but what about a little cliffhanger :)” and I listened to it instead of letting you have one nice chapter of Simon and Baz just being soft


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Dev and Niall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added it to the warnings of this story, but just in case :  
> TRIGGER WARNING :  
> mentions of non consensual sex
> 
> After the previous chapter, I simply couldn’t stop writing.  
> Now it’s 2 a.m.  
> I’m suffering.
> 
> Make sure you’ve read the previous chapter before you read this one, I posted two chapters today

**Niall**

What the fuck is happening.

When we arrive near the classroom where Baz’s exam was taking place, Dev taps my arm to bring my attention to the scene happening in front of us. We’re too far to be noticed, but _we_ can see _them._

Baz’s back is against the wall, but he still seems to have the upper hand on Roman, having his wand pointed at him.

I feel Dev’s arm on my chest, stopping me from moving any closer and pushing me back behind the wall. I shoot him a confused glance, but he shushes me and takes his wand out. 

“ **Walls have ears** ,” he casts, and suddenly, it sounds like we’re just next to Roman and Baz. 

“That’s an illegal spell,” Roman gulps.

Merlin, what mess has Baz gotten himself into this time?

“Do I look like I care?” he answers, his voice cold but trembling slightly. I don’t know if it’s from panic or anger and it makes my stomach drop. “ **The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth** , Roman. What happened on Saturday night?”

Saturday night?

Oh.

Trixie’s party.

Fuck.

If something happened between Baz and _Roman_ at Trixie’s party, it can’t have been good. That guy has been trying to get in Baz’s pants for _months._ Baz kept turning him down, again, and again, and again, and Roman kept coming back, again, and again, and again. It’s like he didn’t understand what ‘no’ means.

That thought makes me shiver, but not as much as the words that come out of Roman’s mouth.

“We danced. Flirted a bit. And then you sucked me off. I wish I could have fucked you but you went back to your friends before I could.”

I feel like my feet are stuck on the ground. I want to run, to go see Baz, but I can’t. I’m petrified.

Dev isn’t though.

The second it all clicks in his brain, he’s gone from our hiding spot. 

I hear the loud thump of a body hitting stone before I can move enough to see that Dev has pinned Roman against the wall, his forearm against his neck. “What did you do to him you motherfucker?” he asks between gritted tears.

His eyes look even darker than usual, and I’ve never heard his voice so full of rage. It scares me, to be honest. I don’t know how Roman can keep that cocky smile on his lips. “Nothing he didn’t want.”

If I physically could, I would scoff. 

“He told you _a million times_ he wasn’t interested in having sex with you. He was _high_.”

Dev’s eyes are only on Roman. It’s like he forgot the world around them. 

“He didn’t say no,” Roman says, his voice detached, like he hasn’t admitted to… 

I’m going to throw up. 

Dev lets go of Roman, and I’m confused as to why for a second, but then he spits out “I’m pretty sure he didn’t say yes either you disgusting scum.” and his fist hits Roman’s nose with a gruesome cracking noise. Roman’s hands fly to his bloody nose, and I hear Baz suck in a breath thanks to the spell Dev cast.

Fuck, the blood.

Baz. The blood.

Keep Baz away from the blood.

That seems to make my body work again. 

I rush to where the three of them are standing, passing by Dev and Roman without a glance for them. My brain is just focused on Baz. Baz, Baz, Baz.

Baz who looks like he’s seen a ghost, Baz with wide eyes and his arms wrapped around himself.

“Baz,” I tell him softly as I stop in front of him. 

I reach out with my hand, slowly, carefully, and put it on his shoulder. He startles, and turns panicked eyes at me. “Baz, come with me.”

“Roman…”

“Dev will deal with Roman. He’ll take him to Headmistress Bunce, right Dev?” I say, looking at him over my shoulder. He’s gripping the collar of Roman’s shirt, his eyes full of fire, and he looks seconds away from slamming his head against the wall. I truly couldn’t blame him if he did.

He doesn’t, though. Instead, he looks back at me and nods decidedly.

He’ll deal with Roman.

I have to take care of Baz.

**…**

He looks like he isn’t truly with me the whole way to my room, his eyes staring into space. It breaks my heart.

I make him sit on my bed, and I make sure to tell him I’ll come back before I go to the bathroom. I spell clean one of the glasses we use when we brush our teeth, and then I fill it with the coldest water the tap can produce. It’s definitely not an ideal way to drink, but I don’t have a better option right now. 

Then, I hurry back to Baz’s side, and I hand him the glass. He takes it mindlessly. “Here, have a drink,” I tell him as I sit, my hand rubbing circles between his shoulders.

I wait for him to swallow some of the water before I say “Why did you ask Roman what happened? Did… did you not remember?”

He didn’t look like someone who’d just given a blowjob to a bloke he had rejected a million times already when Dev and I eventually found him when we decided to leave. I fear he took so much pixie dust that it messed up with his brain. He seemed so far gone when we dragged him back to his room.

He shakes his head. “Not a thing.”

His hands clench around the glass. I take it from him before he can make a mess with it, and then I grab my pyjama top and put it in his hands. Once again, not ideal, but it’s better than a glass or him hurting himself by digging his nails in his palms. It was not _his_ way to make himself bleed, but it is _a_ way, and the last thing he needs right now is for his brain to associate blood to psychological pain again. He’s been clean for so long.

I see a tear roll down his cheeks. “I have to call Simon,” he whispers.

Ok, he lost me there.

“What?” I ask, confused. 

I’d say there are more pressing matters right now than calling his boyfriend. 

“I have to call Simon. I promised him I didn’t cheat, I have to tell him I lied,” he explains, his voice much too serious considering the amount of pure _bullshit_ he’s saying. 

“Wow, hey there,” I tell him, moving to crouch in front of him instead of sitting next to him so that I can make him look at me. “You _didn’t_ cheat on him, Baz.”

Despite my best efforts, he avoids my gaze. His eyes are fixed on his hands.

“I had another man’s dick in my mouth. I’d say that counts as cheating,” he scoffs. 

Is it okay to slap your friend who’s in a state of shock because he’s being an idiot?

“Baz. You were _high_ . You could barely remember your name when we took you to your room. You were in no state to have sex with anyone. Roman took advantage of you when you were vulnerable. It was obvious that you were not in control of yourself. Roman could see that, it’s impossible that he didn’t, and _he_ decided to make you… do that. It’s in no way, shape or form _your_ fault. And if Snow thinks that it is, then he’s a cunt and you should bloody dump him.”

“I didn’t say no. It wouldn’t be wrong of him to say it’s my fault,” he answers flatly. His fingers are playing nervously with the thin fabric of my shirt.

“Not saying no doesn’t mean saying yes, Aleister Crowley, Baz!”

Slowly, very slowly, he raises his head. His eyes are full of tears when they bore into mine. “But what if I said yes?” he asks, his voice breaking. “I don’t remember it, but… but maybe I _did_ say yes.”

Deep breaths, Niall. Screaming at him won’t make this any better. 

“Baz. You. Were. High. I’m no lawyer, but I’m pretty sure it’s written somewhere in the law that someone can’t consent if they’re too drunk or high and you were _both._ Even if you said yes, which I’m sure you _didn’t_ , because you’ve been telling Roman you weren’t interested for months, he still should have kept his dick in his pants. Anyone with half a fucking brain and common fucking decency would _know_ not to do anything sexual with someone in the state you were. He knew what he was doing. You didn’t. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m the one who got high. If I hadn’t, none of this would have happened.”

I’m really trying to stay calm, but my patience is wearing thin. Why does he _always_ have to find a way to blame himself for everything, for magic’s sake. 

I keep his eyes locked into mine as I say, “Ok, so imagine the following scenario : in ten years or so, one of your sisters goes to a party. She gets drunk, and some random bloke shoves his dick down her throat. Are you going to tell her that if she hadn’t drunk, she wouldn’t have gotten assaulted? That it’s _her_ fault that bloke did that to her?”

He doesn’t answer, but I see his eye widen in shock. He’s truly a stupid person. It’s like he didn’t realize how messed up that situation was because it happened to _him._

“So, see? It’s not your fault. So don’t you _dare_ blame yourself. Yes, taking that much pixie dust _and_ drinking on top of that wasn’t your brightest idea, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to make you do things that they know you would absolutely refuse to do if your head was clear. Is this getting into your thick head?”

He nods almost imperceptibly, but he nods.

And then, “I still have to call Simon. I can’t hide that from him.”

**…**

**Dev**

I spelled the fucker mute. I couldn’t bear to hear his whining and outraged cries as dragged him to the Headmistress’s office. I should probably have spelled him unconscious, walking all the way there would have been bloody easier. 

His nose is still bleeding, which he complains about when I give him back his voice as I knock on the door. Dr Bunce is going to make me explain the bleeding before I can tell her about what he did, isn’t she?”.

That’s if she’s even here.

I almost sigh in relief when her voice tells me to come in.

She gives me a puzzled look. Students aren’t forbidden from coming to the Headmaster -well, Headmistress now- on their own, without a teacher sending -forcing- them, but it rarely happens. That office looks like trouble.

I couldn’t care less about the trouble I’m going to put myself in right now. All that matters is that this fucking rat gets in trouble for what he did to my cousin.

When you’re a decent fucking person you know not to make someone who’s as high as Baz was blow you. 

But when you’re a fucking decent friend you don’t leave your friend alone at a party like that.

I ignore the weight in my stomach as I walk in Dr Bunce’s office. I see her eyes go wide when they fall on Roman’s face. In half a second, they’re on me. “What happened?”

“I punched him. That’s not why we’re here,” I say as I push Roman down on a chair, before sitting on the other one.

The Headmistress’s surprised look intensifies. 

“I’d say that punching another student is not something that should be skipped over.”

“Probably not, but maybe we could go back to that after I tell you what _he_ did,” I say, looking at Dr Bunce in the eyes.

She’s a bit intimidating, honestly. Her eyes have this fierceness to them, that can also be seen in her daughter’s eyes, that make me feel like a child in front of her. But I’m too pissed off to be intimidated right now.

Roman has given up on protesting, probably because he knows he’s done something horrible and it’s going to be exposed, so he simply _shuts the fuck up_ when Dr Bunce says, probably sensing my anger, “Well, pray tell, Mr Grimm.”

I take a deep breath. It’s gonna be hard trying to tell that story without cursing this… 

“Okay, so, I know that a lot of things I’m going to say are forbidden and that I’m most definitely putting myself and my friends in trouble for this, but please listen until the end. What _we_ did was bad, but what _he_ did was so much worse,” I say, glaring at him. “So there was this party on Saturday. You know, to relax before the exams, and huh, we had access to pixie dust.” Dr Bunce isn’t stupid, she’ll be able to connect the dots and know that Trixie is the one who provided us with that, but I’m not going to drop names. Not hers, at least. I’m not a snitch I just want the Headmistress to know what Roman fucking Attwood did. “And Baz, Basilton Pitch, took some. Well, a lot to be honest, so he was quite high, and he,” I say, pointing furiously at Roman. “forced Baz to have sex with him.”

“I didn’t force him,” Roman defends himself immediately, giving me an angry look.

I want to punch him again. Merlin knows he deserves it.

“Yes you did! He’s been harassing Baz for _months_ to get him to sleep with him…”

“Aleister Crowley, I didn’t harass him.”

I _am_ going to punch him again.

“He kept saying no and you still kept flirting with him! And last Saturday you just saw that he was not in his normal state and you fucking used that to _assault_ him you bloody creep!”

I’m so angry it feels like fire burning under my skin. He touched Baz. He _hurt_ Baz.

Baz is very good at hurting _himself_ , but no one ever could hurt him, except Snow. He always seemed a bit invincible. I never worried for Baz, not when it came to other people possibly harming him. He scared me with his own bullshit, but I didn’t think others could be a threat for him too.

I was wrong.

So fucking wrong.

“He didn’t say no, I did nothing wrong. If he didn’t want it, he’d have said no. It’s not fucking hard it’s just one syllable.”

I can’t believe he’s blaming Baz. I’m going to fucking rip his head off his body. 

“He couldn’t say no if you had shoved your cock in his mouth you—”

“ **Enough!** ” the Headmistress says, with enough magic in her voice to compel Roman and I both shut up. Her hands are flat on her desk and she’s leaning towards us slightly. “Where is Mr Grimm-Pitch right now?” she asks, looking at me.

“He’s with Niall. Niall Hartley. If you want I can call and tell him to come here.”

I’m not sure Baz is in any state to talk to the Headmistress, but I suppose that’s something that can’t be avoided. 

“Right now it isn’t necessary, but later. I’d want to hear his version.”

Fuck.

“Erm, that won’t be possible,” I say with some discomfort. 

I hope Dr Bunce won’t consider it didn’t happen just because Baz doesn't remember.

“Why is that?”

“Baz… The pixie dust really was hard on him. He doesn’t remember what happened on Saturday night. But I promise it’s all true! Roman admitted to it!”

“I did no such thing,” he automatically says.

“Yes you did, and you were _proud_ about it,” I say, spitting out the word ‘proud’. “I swear to Merlin if this lead to nothing I _will_ get my uncle to press charges against you for what you did to his son, we’ll see if you keep lying in front of the High Court.”

Baz was sent to the High Court for _existing_. I won’t have any damn qualm seeing that bastard sent there for forcing himself upon Baz. 

“Mr Grimm, threatening won’t be tolerated,” Dr Bunce says with a calm voice.

Is she fucking serious?

“But forcing someone to have sex when they _can’t_ give consent is tolerated, apparently,” I answer, my voice biting.

She shakes her head. “Obviously not. But those are serious accusations, and you haven’t given me any proof.”

“Proof? What kind of proof do you want, he _said_ it. You’re the Head of the Coven, you can break the law. Use a bloody truth spell on him and you’ll see that I’m not making up _my cousin’s sexual assault_.”

Why would she even fucking think I’m lying about this? _Who the fuck_ would lie about that? And the fact that I told her we were doing something forbidden when it happened should honestly be proof enough. 

“Mr Grimm, I understand that you’re upset, but I cannot use illegal spells on students and I cannot do anything without any tangible proof. If Mr Grimm-Pitch could testify, it might help, but you said he couldn’t, and the words of someone who was on drugs when whatever they’re telling happened is unreliable.”

“Dr Bunce, with all due respect, I wasn’t joking when I said I’d get Baz’s dad to take this to the High Court. I think you know Malcolm Grimm by now, do you believe he will tolerate it when he hears his son was assaulted? _Inside_ the school on top of that? And that you, as Headmistress of Watford and Head of the Coven, the face of justice in our world, would rather side with his abuser by not believing that it happened? What consequences do you think that’ll have on you? You’ve just gotten your position, it’s fragile. Do you want to risk it because you don’t want to use the means that are at your disposal to know the truth about a situation as serious as this one? And yes, those means are illegal, but so is what he did. Two wrongs do make a right sometimes. I’m sure your use of a truth spell can be excused if it’s to prove that a student was assaulted in _your_ school, under _your_ direction.”

I can’t read Dr Bunce’s expression, but I can feel Roman’s tenseness next to me and it fills me with satisfaction.

“I’m going to contact Mr Grimm-Pitch’s and Mr Attwood’s parents and ask them to come here as soon as possible,” the Headmistress eventually says. “So that we can decide how this situation should be handled.”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Simon, Malcolm and Fiona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER WAS A BITCH TO WRITE OMG I HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO WRITE THE WHOLE  
> TIME
> 
> and next chapter will probably be even harder  
> speaking of next chapter, I don’t know when I’ll be able to post it. I have quite a lot of exams (s e v e n) tomorrow and the day after, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to get something done  
> I probably will if I force myself a bit, but just in case I don’t, you’re warned

**Simon**

I'm in the middle of baking a cake with Daphne and Mordy when my phone rings. 

Is Baz done with his Poli Sci exam already? Damn, it’s later than I thought. 

I quickly wipe the flour I have on my fingers to be able to take the call, and then I’m leaning against the wall, frowning when I see that it’s a regular call and not facetime. Baz never calls like that. 

“Hello?” I say, hesitant. 

“Hello Snow,” Niall’s voice answers.

Niall?

Why would he have Baz’s phone, and why would he use it to call me?

I have a bad feeling about this. I don’t know why, I just do.

The tenseness in his voice when he continues confirms that bad feeling. 

“Are you alone right now?”

I glance at Daphne and Mordelia. They’re both looking at me curiously, the batter for the cake completely abandoned. 

“No.”

“Who is it that you’re with?” I hear Baz’s voice, rather faint compared to Niall’s. He’s either sitting far from his friend, or the phone isn’t on speaker. 

But at least he _is_ with Niall. And he’s well enough to talk. I let out a shaky breath. Thank God.

“Your mum and Mordy.”

“Get out. Go somewhere you can be alone,” he says with an edge to his voice that makes me uncomfortable.

“Baz, you’re scaring me a bit.”

“Just do what I’m asking you to, for Crowley’s sake.”

Well that’s not making me any less scared, thank you babe.

I excuse myself to Daphne and then I’m on my way out, heading to the library. It’s the closest room to the kitchen that’s available. I close the door behind me and walk to where the fireplace is so that I’m far enough from the entrance for someone to hear if they walk by. 

I mean, I guess that with a spell, they could hear, but Daphne wouldn’t use a spell to spy on a conversation that she’s clearly not meant to hear.

“I’m alone now,” I inform Baz and Niall when I sit on the rug, my knees close to my chest. 

“Good,” Niall says. “So, there’s something that we… that _Baz_ has to talk to you about. It’s very serious, and you won’t like it, but you have to listen and not be an arse about it.”

“Just get on with it.”

I’m starting to feel jittery. If I still had my magic, I’m sure I could see sparkles at the tip of my fingers. 

For Niall to be with Baz when he talks to me, and to take such precautions before I hear it, whatever Baz has to say must _really_ be something bad. 

But Baz called me last night and he seemed fine, except for the fact that he said he missed me, what could have gone wrong in less than 24 hours? He’s at school, it’s not like anything ever happens at this place, except when I and monsters are involved.

“Be patient,” Niall snaps. “It’s difficult. Give him time.”

I can practically see him glaring at me. Maybe it’s for the best that he simply called and didn’t try to use facetime. But at the same time I would _really_ like to be able to see Baz’s face right now.

I have no idea what’s going on, and maybe seeing the look on his face would at least give me a clue.

“Okay,” I say, trying not to make too much of my anxiety show. It won’t help Baz. “I’m listening, Baz. Whenever you’re ready.”

**…**

**Baz**

He’s going to hate me.

Niall says it’s not cheating but _it is_ and Simon is going to break up with me because I betrayed him, betrayed his trust, and I’ll lose the best fucking thing that ever happened to me because I was stupid enough to get high.

**…**

**Simon**

It takes at least one excruciatingly long minute before I hear Baz take a breath before he says, “So. You know how I went to this party, on Saturday, and I danced with Roman when I was high?”

“Yes.”

I’d rather not hear about it ever again.

“And… and I told you that… that it didn’t go any further than dancing.”

“Yes.”

Where is he going with this? Has he _seen_ Roman again? Did they go further this time.

I try to shake that thought.

Baz wouldn’t cheat. Baz wouldn’t cheat. Baz _wouldn’t_ cheat. 

But what if yesterday when he called he was feeling bad because he went back to Roman and not because he missed me?

“I lied,” he says, and the words weigh on me, making my stomach and my shoulders drop.

He lied.

He _promised_ it didn’t go any further and he _lied._

“Baz, shut up,” I hear Niall say furiously. “He didn’t _lie_ , Snow, don’t get yourself all worked up.” Then, lower, to Baz. “Are you going to tell this the right way or do I have to do it for you?”

Baz doesn’t say anything, so soon enough, I hear Niall’s voice again. “Just so we’re clear, Baz did _not_ lie to you. He doesn’t remember what happened on Saturday, I think you’re not stupid enough to believe not saying something because you don’t _know_ it is a lie.”

“Of course I don’t believe that.” 

“Good. So now, as for what happened… Baz was high at that party, as he has apparently told you.”

“He told me.”

Niall hums. “He was high, too high to be in control of himself and his actions, and Roman used that to take advantage of him. We know this because Roman told Baz.”

Take advantage of him?!

My heart is pounding in my chest when I ask “What do you mean by that?”

If that bloke hurt Baz—

“Roman has been flirting with Baz for a long time now, and as you can guess, Baz turned him down, but it didn’t stop Roman. Saturday night, when Baz was high out of his mind, Roman… Roman made him give him a blowjob.”

I drop my phone. 

My heart is beating so fast in my chest that I can feel it pulse at my temples, and I can hear nothing but that and the buzzing sound in my ears. 

He hurt Baz.

He… It makes me want to throw up just thinking about it. 

**…**

**Baz**

Snow isn’t answering.

Of course he isn’t.

He must be disgusted by me.

I close my eyes and brace myself for whatever he’s going to say next. 

Probably to go fuck myself. 

That he doesn’t want to be with me anymore.

That I’m a liar and a cheater and that he should have never trusted me.

Whatever he says, I deserve it. 

**…**

**Simon**

“I’ll kill that motherfucker,” I say between gritted teeth.

I’m not even talking to Niall and Baz. When I say it, I’m not even sure I remember that I’m supposed to be on the phone with them. All I can think of is Baz and that bloke. Roman. Some fit, blonde kid who was in my Magickal Words class back when I was still a student at Watford. He was not particularly remarkable.

And that bloke pushed his cock inside Baz’s mouth when he was too high to even _remember_ it bloody happened. 

“You’re not angry with me?” Baz asks, sounding dumbstruck as I grab the phone and put it back next to my ear. 

What?

Why would he think I’d be angry with him?

“If I’m mad at someone, it’s that bastard who thought it was okay to touch you, love, not you. How could I be angry with you?”

“I cheated on you,” he says, his voice wet with tears.

Fuck why are we doing this over the phone. I need to see him. To pull him into a hug and let him cry in my arms.

I hope Niall’s hugging him. Or stroking his hair. Baz likes that when he’s not okay. 

“Baz, God, no you didn’t. You were on drugs, you were not yourself. You didn’t cheat on me. It’s not your fault he did that to you.”

I hear him sniff. It’s breaking my heart. I’ve seen Baz cry, but he always cried like he’s pausing for a painting. Silent tears rolling down his cheeks like they’re following a perfectly traced path. No snot, no wobbling lip, no shaking shoulders. Just tears and bloodshot eyes.

“I’m still sorry,” he lets out, a sob in his voice.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Fuck, I’m the one who’s sorry I… I can’t believe I put those stupid ideas of cheating in your head when in reality you... he… I’m so fucking sorry Baz. But Baz… Have you told the Headmistress? And your parents, are you going to tell your parents? You _have_ to tell your parents, your dad must do something.”

I want my brain to stop thinking about Baz being… about Roman…

I want to _stop_ thinking about it. So instead I try focusing on how to deal with it. It’s so important to deal with it. Roman has to pay.

“Dev is in the Headmistress’s office right now,” Niall answers. I can still hear Baz sniffing so I suppose Niall decided he’d do the talking now to give Baz time to collect himself. Or cry some more. Probably collect himself. It’s Baz. He doesn’t like being vulnerable for too long. “As for his parents, we haven’t really given that much thought yet, but I think Mrs Bunce is going to call them anyway. Technically Baz and Roman are both adults but I think that for something like this she’ll involve the parents anyway. It’s too serious not to. But _don’t_ mention anything to Malcolm or Daphne yourself. Unless Baz wants to. Do you want to?” Niall says, and I know that he’s talking to Baz. There are a few seconds of silence before he continues. “He doesn’t want you to tell his family. So keep that to yourself.”

I nod. Then I remember they can’t see me so I say “Yes, of course. But, uh, Niall do you think I could speak to Baz without, you know, you listening?”

Once again, there’s a silence.

“I’d rather not. I… I’ll talk to you later. Maybe not today. I don’t know. But not now,” Baz eventually answers, and I can tell that he does his best to keep his voice steady.

I can’t say I’m happy about that, but I’m not going to try to force him to talk to me. I hate when he does it to me. 

“Okay. Well I’ll… I’ll hang up then, I guess?”

“Please.”

He sounds so broken. I fucking hate it. I wish I was at school right now just so that I could give the bloke who hurt him what he deserves. 

Baz thinks he is a monster for needing blood. Then what am I for craving it?

“I’m hanging up. I love you, Baz.”

“I love you too.”

**…**

**Malcolm**

I sigh when I see Mitali Bunce’s name on my phone. She said she wouldn’t call a Coven meeting until after Christmas, but I can already hear her say that I need to be in London on Saturday.

I put down my pen to take my phone in my hand instead.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Malcolm. I’m calling you because I need you to come to Watford immediately. It’s about your son. Something happened, with another student, Roman Attwood, and it has to be dealt with as soon as possible.”

My whole body tenses. What happened? Did Baz… 

No, he’s been going at this school for years without harming anymore. He wouldn’t start now. 

“What is this something, Mitali?” 

“It’s complicated.”

“Give me an answer. You can’t ask me to come all the way to Watford without even giving me an idea of why I’m doing so.”

I hear her sigh. It takes her some more time to eventually let out, “One of Basilton’s classmates came to my office with Mr Attwood accusing him of…” She stops, like she doesn’t quite know what to say. Or more specifically, like she doesn’t know _how_ to say it. She takes a deep breath. “Sexually assaulting your son.”

At first, I don’t understand her words. It’s like she spoke in a foreign language, it’s just a line of syllables with no meaning.

And _then_ the meaning hits me. 

I’m on my feet before I can even think of getting up. “I’m on my way,” I tell Mitali before hanging up, not even giving her time to answer anything. 

The words echo in my head, louder and louder, sounding more terrifying each time. _Sexually assaulting your son._

I thought I’d seen it all. 

When he was bitten. When he turned. When he crashed the car. When he tried to take his own life. When I thought a trial might take him away from me. 

I thought I’d seen the end of the atrocities that happened to Baz. That it couldn’t possibly ever get _worse._

I was wrong.

I close my hand around the door handle, trying to catch my breath. I don’t know how I’m going to drive all the way to Watford if I don’t calm down. 

I could always ask Daphne to drive. She doesn’t have to know why I need to get there before we arrive. Besides, she can be trusted with a car more than I can in any case. 

I press on the door handle and leave the room. My hand is trembling a little less. 

I hear chatter coming from the kitchen, so I follow those sounds, and thankfully, Daphne is here, with Mordelia and Simon. He isn’t talking with them, though. He looks completely lost in his thoughts. Does he know? Did Basil tell him?

It wouldn’t surprise me.

“Daphne I’m sorry to interrupt but I need you to come with me. Right now. Mitali Bunce called, I have to go to Watford and I do not think I can drive right now.”

She stands from her crouched position in front of the over in a second. Her eyes fill with worry when they fall on my face. “Why? Did something happen with Baz?”

I hear Simon gasp. So does she, because she glances at him. 

“Yes,” I answer. “I don’t have time to explain. Get ready, we have to leave now.”

She must see something in my eyes that convince her to simply _listen_ because she doesn’t argue. She whispers something to Mordelia, probably reassuring her that everything is fine -it’s not, but it’s better if that is the version the kids hear- before leaving the room, Mordelia trailing behind her. 

Once she’s gone, I turn to look at Simon. He’s livid. When he feels my eyes on him, it seems to trigger something because he snaps out of his daydream and rushes to my side, his hand tightening on my arm. “Malcolm, please let me come with you. I need to see Baz. I… I’m sure Vera can take care of the little ones while we’re gone. Please don’t leave me here.”

He looks so desperate, clinging to me like to a rock in the middle of a raging ocean. So he _does_ know. Merlin.

I put my hand on his shoulder, trying not to show any of my own trouble, even though I can still feel the painful thumping of my heart. “It’s okay, you can go. Hurry, go put shoes on.”

He disappears within a second.

**…**

Barely ten minutes after I ended my call with Mitali, we’re on the road. Daphne looks confused, but she doesn’t bother asking questions. I can tell Simon is anxious. I hear him shift every five seconds. 

I’m no better, to be honest.

I can’t believe what Mitali said. I’m trying to wake up, but every mile we drive makes the nightmare more terrifyingly real. 

**…**

**Fiona**

There’s never a good time to receive a text message from Malcolm, but it’s definitely _not_ a good time when I’m trying to recover from the terribly disappointing sex I just had with a man who probably never made a woman orgasm in his entire life.

I set a particular ringtone for my dear ex brother-in-law, so I know that he is the one texting me, and I _really_ don’t want to check what he’s saying, but he usually doesn’t text me unless he absolutely needs to, and it almost always involves Baz.

So, because I’m much too soft for this kid and I _have_ to be sure his annoying father isn’t telling me Baz got himself in trouble, I grab my phone.

I see red when I read the words on the screen. 

**…**

_Wait for us if you get there first._

Bullshit.

Malcolm’s really gone mad if he thinks I’ll wait for him when Baz is in that fucking school where another kid…

My blood feels as hot as the fire of my magic.

I walk through the open drawbridge, hurrying to Mummers House.

The magic stopping girls from entering doesn’t only apply to students, but I know I’ll still be able to sneak in.

My three last years at school would have been much less fun if I couldn’t sneak in. 

I climb up the stairs until the fourth floor. He told me that that’s where Dev and Niall’s room was (well, he said “I considered throwing myself off of the window but I wasn’t sure about falling from the fourth” hen he complained about his friends) and I know that he tends to come here when he’s not okay, so I’d rather check this room first. And I’m also hoping he _is_ here, and that he didn’t stupidly isolate himself. He does incredibly dumb things when he’s alone, that kid. 

I knock on the door, which opens on Niall a few seconds later. 

His eyebrows go up in surprise, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he looks over his shoulder and says “Baz, your aunt is here.”

“My aunt?” I hear Baz say, before I hear footsteps. “What are you sayi… Fiona.”

His eyes are red.

That poor fucking kid.

“Hey, boyo,” I tell him, keeping my usual casual attitude. I don’t want to freak him out with my worry. His father and _stepmother_ will do that more than enough.

 _Us,_ Malcolm said in the message. As if he had to bring _her_ along. As if it’d make sense that she’d be here. As if she was Baz’s fucking parent.

“What are you doing here?” he asks before both he and Niall move out of the way to let me in.

“Mitali called Malcolm, Malcolm texted me.”

I see Baz tense as I reach in my pocket to take my cigarettes out. I’m gonna need one. Or maybe the whole bloody pack. 

I open the pack and take a fag out before handing it to Baz. “Want one?”

He doesn’t answer, simply takes it. I propose one to Niall too, but he declines. 

“So my father is on his way here too?” Baz asks, his voice sounding as tense as he looks.

I light a fire in my hand and light both of our cigarettes before putting it out. “Yes. With Daphne, I think. He said we, not I when he texted me.”

He winces. 

“Okay.”

“They should be here soon, they were already in the car when your father told me I had to come here.”

“Why did you even have to come here,” he asks with a nervous, shaky laugh.

“You know Malcolm has always involved me in matters that concerned you. You shouldn’t be surprised.”

He takes a drag of his cigarette. “I’m not, honestly. I just wish you weren’t here. I wish Father wasn’t about to be here.”

“I wish we didn’t have a reason to be here,” I answer, realizing my mistake when I see his eyes fill with sorrow.

Fuck, I said I wouldn’t burden him with my worry.

It’s like my words have sucked out all of his life force. He walks to the nearest bed and lets himself fall back on it, the cigarette still between his fingers when he presses his forehead against the heels of his hands.

I sit next to him. I can see that Niall stops himself from doing so too, and sits on the other bed instead. 

“Wow, you okay there Baz?” 

He looks up at me. His grey eyes are so empty, they look like a tombstone. He shakes his head. “No.”

Hugging isn’t something we do in this family.

It was acceptable when he was little because he was a child, but we don’t anymore.

But he looks so helpless, and I know that he’s one of those people who need touch for comfort, so I put my cigarette out on the desk, and then I’m turning back to look at Baz, carefully maneuvering him in my arms until his head is resting on my shoulder. His breathing is laboured when it hits my neck.

“It’ll be okay, kid. You’ll be okay.”


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone arrives at Watford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than usual but it’s all I could produce today

**Niall**

The ringtone of Fiona’s phone startles me.

“It’s your father,” she tells Baz without even taking her phone out of her pocket. “I told him to send me a message when he’d arrive.”

Baz looks back and forth between Fiona and I. “So that’s our cue to leave, right?”

There’s an edge to his voice as he says it. 

“Yup. But I think your buddy’s gonna have to stay here. We’re going to see the Headmistress, not have a tea party, there can’t be too many of us,” Fiona says, waving at me.

You’d think that after being friends with Baz for years, his aunt would have learnt my name. It’s not like it’s complicated.  _ Niall.  _

“I’m still coming,” I say decidedly. Fiona cocks one of her eyebrows at me. “I’ll stay in the corridor, I don’t have to be in the room to be here. I’m not leaving Baz alone.”

From the corner of my eyes, I see him give me a small smile.

“Well, you do you boyo, but you’re going to get bored.”

I shrug. “I don’t have anything better to do anyway.

“We literally have exams tomorrow,” Baz says, rolling his eyes.”

“Magickal Words. That shouldn’t even count as an exam. We’re in our bloody 8th year, we know how to cast a spell. Besides, I’m pretty sure Dev is still there. We’ll keep each other company in the corridor.”

Baz makes a face as he pushes himself up. “Gross.”

I feel my cheeks flush. “Oh, shut up. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, sure. Come on, let’s go.”

**…**

**Simon**

My heart stops the moment I see Baz, and everything arounds me becomes blurry except for the shape of him. I can no longer hear Malcolm whispering to Daphne, explaining what’s going on to her, can no longer feel the cold button of my coat that I’ve been doing and undoing again and again and again for as long as we've been waiting outside of the car, there’s just him.

He looks as dignified and proud as he always is, his back straight and his head up, but once we’re close enough, I can see the trouble in his eyes.

I don’t know if he arrived near me quickly, or if I walked towards him to close the distance, all that I know is that I’m lost in a sea of grey. In a sea of him.

I want to reach out to touch him, pull him into a hug and never let him go, but I’m not sure if I’m allowed to. It takes all of my self control not to.

“Hello,” he says, and I can hear the discomfort in his voice. 

“Hey, babe.” And then because I can’t fucking handle it. “Fuck, I want to hug you. Can I hug you?”

He scoffs. 

“Of course, you moron.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I wrap my arms around him, chest against chest, so close that he can probably feel my heart hammering. He’s tense at first, but he relaxes a little bit, leaning into the touch. 

He doesn’t hug me back, but I feel him press a kiss in my hair and that’s enough.

Eventually, I have to let go of him and it physically hurts to do so. I don’t want him to leave my arms ever again. I want to keep him right there, with me. Safe.

The anger I’ve felt, more or less intense, ever since he called me intensifies again. I don’t know what I’ll do when I’ll be in the same room as Roman, but I would like it very much if it involved my fist and his face. 

I see him look over my shoulder, taking a deep breath, like he’s about to do something impossible. 

And maybe it seems impossible, facing Malcolm and Daphne now. 

**…**

**Baz**

Why did Daphne have to come?

It would have been hard enough if it was just Father, but  _ Daphne? _

The worry in her eyes makes my stomach drop. I hate this. 

At least Father tries to hide that he’s worried, Fiona as well. Daphne has it written all over her face.

Simon shifts to stand by my side instead of in front of me when my parents arrive, and for some reason, it makes it all seem a bit terrifying.

Simon is here by my side, both literally and figuratively, with his hand on mine. It’s good. It’s  _ safe _ . I could use a feeling of safety right now. Since Roman’s words made their way into my brain, it’s like I’ve been deprived of everything that usually makes me strong.

Because he  _ did  _ something to me.

And I didn’t defend myself.

And I can’t remember it.

Simon Snow is the only person who ever could make me feel like this. Exposed.  _ Vulnerable. _

I’m a vampire. I have a high pain resistance. I’m stronger than everyone else. All my senses are more intense than those of everyone else. My skin doesn’t bruise. It’s hard to cut through it. I’m not used to feel anything other than as the one who has the upper hand.

But  _ he  _ was the one who had the upper hand.

He still is.

Because he knows exactly what happened and I  _ don’t. _

“Baz,” my father says, bringing me back to reality. Daphne and him are right on front of Simon and I now, close enough to be within arm’s reach.

“Father,” I answer, letting less emotion show through my voice than he did. 

He looks uncomfortable. He probably doesn’t know what to say. I don’t know what he  _ could  _ say. If I hear one of them say they’re sorry for me I’m going to lose my mind. I don’t need to feel any weaker than I already do.

Daphne takes less precautions with her words. 

She reaches out to squeeze my arm, and says, “How are you feeling?”

“Not at my best,” I answer, avoiding her gaze. Avoiding looking at her face at all. It hurts to do so. Then, I clear my throat, and wriggle my arm out of Daphne’s grip. “We should be on our way. Dev told Niall he’s been alone in the corridor in front of the Headmistress’s office forever, let’s go keep him company.”

**…**

**Dev**

I’m a bit surprised when I see how many people arrive with Baz. 

Malcolm and Fiona are always the ones who deal with Baz’s things, Malcolm because he’s his dad, of course, and Fiona because she is Fiona Pitch and you don’t shut that woman out of her nephew’s business. 

Sometimes you’d think she was Baz’s big sister. If she wasn’t so much older than him, I think she could easily pretend she is. She acts the part anyway, being the one who helps him does stupid things behind his father’s back while still being here for him when he needs to. And she’s very fucking protective. 

But I wasn’t expecting Daphne and Snow to be here. I didn’t think Snow would ever want to set foot at school. I know I wouldn’t, if what happened to him had happened to me.

Once Baz is close enough, I give him a smirk. I’m pretty sure he won’t like it if I go all soft on him, so I act like I always do.

“Got the whole family to come, huh? Also why are they not coming closer?” I ask him as I wave in their general direction. 

Malcolm, Daphne, Fiona, Niall, even  _ Snow  _ are staying behind, near the top of the stairs instead of coming here near the door.

Well, technically it’s where people are supposed to wait, there are seats and all, but I thought they’d come here. Instead it’s just Baz. 

He waits until he’s standing so close to me that I have to crane my neck to see him to answer.

“I wasn’t even aware they were coming,” he sighs as he lets his body slide down the wall, sitting next to me. “And they’re over there because I told them I wanted space. How’s your fist?”

I nod, and then I show him said fist with a winning smile. “It’s really enjoying itself since it broke Roman’s nose.”

“Merlin, you really broke his nose?” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I clasp his shoulder.

“That I did, mate. He kept whining about it and he looked like he was about to cry when the Headmistress cast a spell on him to fix it. It was brilliant.”

This time he laughs. It’s that loud, inelegant laugh that sounds  _ real.  _ He doesn’t laugh like that in front of many people. I’m sure the people in this corridor plus his little sisters are the only people who’s ever heard him laugh like that. 

He’s  _ Baz Pitch _ , after all, he can’t be anything else than perfect in front of regular people. Wouldn’t want to ruin his reputation as the biggest fucking arsehole to ever walk this earth.

“Where is he, by the way?” he asks after a moment, a tenseness to his voice.

“Still in the office. I think Mrs Bunce is trying to get a confession out of him. I told her that he did confess to it but  _ apparently,  _ that’s not enough. Fucking bullshit.”

“It’s okay,” he says, even though it’s  _ not  _ okay  _ at all. _

There are a few seconds of heavy silence, before Baz shakes his head and slips back into a more relaxed attitude. I don’t know how he does it.

He kicks my foot to catch my attention, and then he bows ridiculously. “Thank you for your service, Dev.”

“Anything for my favourite cousin.”

“I’m your only cousin,” he answers flatly.

“No you’re not. There are your sisters.”

“They’re babies, they don’t count.”

“Mordelia would kick you if she heard you call her a baby,” I say, letting Baz’s pretend calm get to me. If  _ he  _ can act normal, so can I. “Devilish child”

He snorts. 

I’m not like Baz, I don’t like kids. His sister freaks me the fuck out. She’s a demon, I swear. I’m  _ convinced  _ that she planned putting her stupid car toys in the stairs just so that I would trip on them and fall, that one time she wasn’t happy I was at her place. 

“Leave my sister alone. She’s going to hex you when she’s old enough to have a wand,” he says casually as he slips his hand in his pocket. He takes out a pack of cigarettes. I guess that comes from Fiona. Bless her. “Want a fag?”

He regrets saying it the moment it’s out of his mouth.

I nudge his shoulder, give him my best big, dumb smile, and point my chin at Niall. “I’ve already got one.”

He shakes his head as I take one cigarette. 

“You know, that joke was a bit funny the first time you’ve done it but after a million times, it’s really not anymore.”

“Niall was a bit funny too the first time I’ve done him.”

He spits out the cigarette he just put between his lips. It falls on the floor in front of him, and I burst out laughing. 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he groans as he picks up his fag and crush it between his fingers. 

He takes another one, which will hopefully stay in his mouth this time. 

“Leave Niall out of your shitty jokes, the poor bloke’s already charitable enough dating you, don’t make him want to leave you.”

I elbow him in the side. He doesn’t even flinch. Bastard. 

Must be nice being a vampire.

He lights a fire in his hand. 

Maybe not that nice.

He always scares the shit out of me when he does that. I know he’s a Pitch and his family are fire holders and it’s in his blood and blah blah blah, but he’s fucking  _ flammable.  _

“Baz, for Crowley’s sake, you are flammable,” I hear Malcolm tell him off from where he’s standing on the other side of the corridor.

Baz rolls his eyes.

“It hasn’t killed me yet.”

“Yet being the key word here!”

“Leave the kid alone Malcolm, he knows what he’s doing.”

And so Malcolm and Fiona start bickering. 

I glance at Baz, who looks both exasperated and amused, and tell him as he puts his fire close to my hand to light my cigarette. “Took them long enough.”

**…**

**Daphne**

I think I hear the footsteps in the stairs before everyone else, because they all seem calm for a few more seconds when I do.

The other boy’s parents have arrived. 

Once they all realize, though, their reaction is immediate. Simon tenses so much that he has to clench his fists hard to contain himself. Niall is livid. Malcolm’s and Fiona’s eyes are fixed on the stairs.

When they reach to top floor, the other boy’s parents look as on edge as us, but ten times more uncomfortable as they salute us politely and walk to the Headmistress’s office.

I wonder how I would feel if Malcolm had been called here for the same situation, but reversed. If Baz had been the one who…

No, I don’t want to imagine that. 

It must be devastating, for a parent.

But it was so much more devastating to hear what had happened to Baz. 

I glance at him, and see that he’s lost the few colours he has on his face. He’s staring into space, Dev leaning to whisper something to him, probably as daunting as what Fiona says as she stands from her seat.

“Well, it looks like it’s time to get in there.”

I look back and forth between Malcolm and Fiona. I know that they’re the one who are going to ‘get in there’, they’re Baz’s family. I don’t know if I’m allowed to go with them. Malcolm usually involves me in matters concerning Baz, he knows I love him, and I’ve been doing my best to take care of him since I moved in with them, but Fiona...

Fiona looks at me with fire in her eyes, before glaring at Malcolm.

“She’s  _ not  _ coming with us.”

Oh, how I love when she talks about me like I’m not even here.

“Yes, she is, if she wants to.”

Baz’s voice starles me.

I wasn’t expecting him to interfere. He often does, though. He doesn’t like how his aunt talks about and to me sometimes. He’s such a sweet kid. 

Fiona turns at him, starting to say “She’s not your…”

“Shut up, Fiona. Just come here already, the three of you. I want to get this over with.”

His voice quivers a little as he says it.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Socrates said “All I know is that I know nothing” Baz felt that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had four exams today and i’m sure i failed all four of them, and instead of doing something nice to feel better like a normal person i wrote that :)))
> 
> !!BIG TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER!!
> 
> Non consensual sex, mentions of drug use
> 
> If you want to skip the most graphic part, I’ve put the last paragraph before and the first paragraph after it in bold, and the part in itself is in italic. You should see it coming anyway.

**Baz**

My only relief is that Roman’s parents look ashamed. Maybe they won’t insist that he didn’t do anything _that much_ , then. 

I purposely avoid looking at him, though. 

I sit next to my father -Fiona and Daphne both insisted I should take the second chair- my gaze fixed on the Headmistress. I’m not going to look at Roman, but I’m not going to look _down_ either. He’s already enjoyed my vulnerability too much. 

“Thank you all for coming so quickly,” Mrs Bunce says, her voice as neutral as possible. 

“It’s not like we had a choice,” Fiona snarls. Merlin, I love her but can she _stop_ being difficult. “I wish we didn’t have to be here.”

She’s behind me so I can’t see, but I’m pretty sure she’s glaring at Roman.

“Believe me, Miss Pitch, I would too.”

Mrs Bunce does look exhausted. I suppose that it was tiring trying to get a confession out of Roman for almost two hours straight without resorting to using a truth spell.

“Basilton,” she says, looking at me. “Would you mind stating your claim against Roman.”

My _claim._

She makes it sound like a bad thing. Like there’s no truth at all behind it. 

Does she _truly_ not believe it to be true? Niall texted Dev a bit when he got out of the Headmistress’s office, and he said that she pretty much explained that without a proof, she wouldn’t believe me. But I didn’t think it was true.

I understand her not _punishing_ Roman without proof, but she could at least not seem to be on his side.

Is it because I’m a boy? She can’t believe that it wouldn’t happen to a boy?

Or is it because I’m _me?_

I know the Bunces aren’t the biggest fans of my family, far from it, while the Attwood’s beliefs are much closer to the Bunces’, but she wouldn’t let that influence her, right?

As Headmistress of this school _and_ Head of the Coven, she has to be impartial, in all circumstances, especially when she’s judging something.

I try not to let it make me lose my countenance. Roman admitted to it under the influence of a truth spell. I may not remember it, but I know that it must be true. 

“Roman made me practice oral sex on him while I was too on drugs to give him consent.”

Using big words like that make it sound less awful. I can distance myself more than when I think that he made me suck his cock.

I can practically feel my and his family tense when I say it but him… he doesn’t even flinch. He just has this sick gleam in his eyes that I can’t quite identify but that looks awfully like smugness. 

The Headmistress’s eyes go back to Roman.

“Roman. Do you have anything to say?”

“No,” he answers stubbornly. 

Of course.

It would be so easy if he’d just _admit it._

I glance at him. He’s standing behind his parents, his face emotionless, his back straight and arms crossed. 

“Are you certain? You do know that I will find a way to get answers about this, whether you give them to me or not.”

“There’s no other answer I can give you than what I’ve already told you. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

I feel Fiona’s hand clench behind my shoulder, around the backrest of the chair I’m sitting on. 

“You sure haven’t,” I tell him, putting as much sarcasm as I can in my voice as I draw my eyes up to bore them into his.

“You say that as if you remember anything,” he shoots back, a cruel but satisfied look in his eyes, the corner of his lip quirked up in a smirk. 

And I freeze.

Completely.

I’m not sure I’m even breathing anymore.

What if he…

No.

It wouldn’t make any sense.

He wouldn’t have brought it up, if he’d erased my memory, right? _He_ would have kept the memory that I sucked him off, but he wouldn’t have _told_ me afterwards, there would have been no point in wiping my memory otherwise, right?

But then I remember the pride in his eyes when he talked about what happened on Saturday, before I used **The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth** on him. How confident he looked, like he was superior to me. Like he felt completely in control of the situation and I was a poor fool he was messing with.

He probably wasn’t expecting me to use an illegal spell, and if I hadn’t used that spell on him, I would have never known I had _actually_ gotten on my knees for him. 

If I hadn’t cast the spell, he would have been able to fuck with my brain as much as he wanted, hinting that something happened between us but leaving me completely helpless, unable to be sure whether or not it was true. 

Maybe… Maybe _that’s_ what he wanted.

The satisfaction of having had his cock in my mouth like he desired. 

And the satisfaction of holding something like that over me.

To have _power_ over me. 

“You cast a spell on me…” I whisper, like an affirmation more than a question, my eyes still locked in his. “It’s not just the drugs, I don’t remember because you bloody cast a spell on me.”

Something flashes in his eyes as I say it that makes me believe that I’m not going completely mad and that he _actually_ did that. 

But of course, when he opens his mouth, it’s only to deny.

“The claims keep coming, I see,” he answers calmly. “Do you have _anything_ to back up what you say or are you just throwing accusations for fun?”

“I’m trying to understand what happened since you won’t _talk_ ,” I say, trying to match his calm tone, and failing miserably.

I hate this. 

I hate not knowing, I hate not having the upper hand. 

“I wouldn’t want to pick sides,” Mrs Bunce says, bringing my attention back to her. “But Roman does have a point. Do you have any proof of what you claim?”

That bloody chair is going to break if Fiona keeps holding on it so tightly. 

“No, I don’t,” I say, my eyes flicking from Roman to the Headmistress. “Because I have almost no memories of that night. Believe me, if I _knew_ what had happened, I would have told you already, but I don’t.”

I don’t and it’s killing me. 

Having this… this hole in my memory, about something so important, it’s the worst fucking thing.

Uncertainty is so damn awful. I’m sure it would hurt less to know than to be… like that. 

“Mitali.”

Father’s voice startles me. If one of my family members had to intervene, I would have bet on Fiona. It’s obvious that she’s fuming. 

“There’s something very simple that would potentially solve this lack of proof that seems to bother you so much, though I cannot comprehend why you would be so adamant not to believe my son.”

If my father’s words irritate her, Mrs Bunce doesn’t show it. “What is it?”

“Memory spells can be broken. It’s risky, or course, any spells that have to do with the mind are, but if it was truly cast by a student, I think you should be able to undo it without causing Basilton any damage. If Mr Attwood has effectively used a spell to wipe his memory, breaking it will allow Basilton to remember, which will then allow him to prove the fact that he was under a memory spell, and that what he says has happened has happened. If there was no memory spell involved, we could still work a way to make Basilton remember, though it might hold more risk.”

That’s actually a great idea.

Why the fuck didn’t I think about that? I _know_ spells to bring back someone’s memories, one of my mother’s most important work was creating one, it was a landmark in the history of my magic when her spell was proven to work.

I guess my father remembers my mother’s theories more quickly than I do -it makes sense that he would, he must have heard her rant about that for months on end when she was working on it. 

Or maybe his head is simply clearer than mine at the moment. It’s really not hard to have a clearer head than me.

All I can think about is all that I don’t know. 

I see Roman gulp when my father’s words make their way inside his brain. When he understands their implications.

That means he must have really cast a spell on me, right?

I hope so.

I trust my mother’s genius, but I’ve read her essay about her spell -Aleister Crowley, Simon’s right, I’m a nerd- and there are some questionable potential consequences to it that I’d rather avoid. Besides, it was only an experimental spell, it needed to be perfected to be less risky, but she died before she could continue her research and no one wanted to continue it in her stead. No one was quite as brilliant as her.

Breaking a memory-wipe spell is much less dangerous than using my mother’s spell, though still not completely safe. Most mages actually refrain from using spells that manipulate your mind in any way -which is partly why truth spells are illegal. Normals with serious mental conditions are institutionalized, which is already bad enough, but for mages… if you’re deemed insane, they snap your want and ostracize you. You’re as bad as a criminal. You’re too dangerous, when you’re a mage and you don’t have a good enough control of yourself to control your magic and spellwork. The only reason Snow wasn’t treated that badly is because he was the Chosen One and had the Mage’s… protection. If you can call that protection. 

Mrs Bunce hums. “That might be a good idea, indeed, if Basilton agrees to it.”

“I do,” I answer immediately, practically interrupting her.

Anything as long as I recover my memory. As long as I Saturday night isn’t a blurred, torn picture in my mind anymore. 

“Those kinds of spells are dangerous,” the Headmistress says with a patronizing voice.

Does she think I don’t know? I’m the best fucking student in this school, I know more about magic than practically all of my classmate, more than most mages _in general,_ I know what I’m getting myself into. I just don’t _care_ that it’s dangerous. 

“I’m fully aware of the consequences this could have on me, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Besides, shouldn’t your spellwork be good enough that nothing bad will happen to me, even with a hazardous spell?”

Maybe that particular comment wasn’t necessary but she irritates me.

I catch a glimpse of Roman’s face and see that he’s turned pale, almost as pale as me. Good. 

He’s so bad at hiding his reactions, honestly, it should be enough proof for Mrs Bunce.

I see the irritation grow in her eyes, and I can tell that she wants to sigh when she takes her wand out, but she remains professional as she points her wand at me.

“Careful with that wand, Mitali,” Fiona says with her usual aggressiveness, her hand slipping from the backrest of my chair to my shoulder.

The contact is more comforting than I care to admit.

Fiona’s hand is hot. Fiona’s hands are always hot. Fire-holder. 

My magic isn’t enough to warm me up, but hers is. She’s not as warm as Simon was before… _before_ , but her body definitely runs hotter than other people’s.

This time, Mrs Bunce doesn’t contain her annoyance. She glances at Fiona, before focusing back on me. 

“Are you really sure about this, Basilton? If you’re indeed under the influence of a memory spell, your memories will start flowing back the moment it’s broken. It might be brutal if… what you claim has happened has indeed happened.”

She could just say it if she didn’t want proof that Roman put his dick in my mouth. 

I give her a determined look, and answer with a stern, confident voice, as I adjust my stance to sit straighter. “Yes, I’m perfectly sure. Please proceed.”

The sky is already so dark outside.

I want to be done with this and run back into Simon’s arms. Let him hold me and make me forget about anything that isn’t him. He’s good at that. 

My family take a deep breath almost at the same time as I do when Mrs Bunce opens her mouth.

For a moment, I believe the spell hasn’t worked. **Nothing has changed. I felt Mrs Bunce’s magic -it felt like stepping outside when it’s freezing- but when I try thinking of Saturday, I can see nothing more than what I already remembered. I haven’t had the rush of memories that should come with breaking a memory spell.**

**But then I do.**

**…**

_There are hands on my waist and I’m giggling._

_There are hands on my waist and I’m too hot and the lights are too colourful and the music is too loud._

_There are hands on my waist and someone’s hips flush against mine._

_I giggle more when I feel his hard cock against my arse._

_“Already turned on, Snow?”_

_His laugh in my ear doesn’t sound like Simon’s._

_“I think there’s something you can do about that.”_

_The voice isn’t like Simon’s either but I’m high and I’m drunk and he’s probably drunk too and the music is so loud I’m not even sure about what I’m hearing._

_What I’m sure of is that he slipped his hand on mine and he’s pulling on it._

_I follow him. I’d follow him anywhere._

_There are so many people, and the lights are blinding, I can’t see him well._

_And then we’re in the corridor and I can’t see him because it’s dark._

_His hand isn’t so warm in mine, but I’m so hot, I must be almost as warm as him._

_He opens the door to an empty room, just as dark as the corridor, and pushes me against the wall. Fuck I like it when he does that._

_So we’re going for rough sex tonight. I’m fine with that. I like it when he’s in the mood for rough._

_He comes close to me and take my hand, pushing it inside his pants. It automatically closes around his cock._

_He groans._

_“You’re too cold,” he says, his breathing hot against my neck. “That won’t do.”_

_His hand lets go of mine, but quickly enough, I feel it on me again. On my shoulder, this time. His other hand is on my shoulder too. They both press down until I fall, my knees hitting the floor hard. I wince._

_My hand is still in his pants. But I know what he wants, so I don’t leave it here. Instead, I use it to undo his trousers._

_I didn’t think Simon would ever wear slacks unless I forced him too._

_I push his trousers and his pants down his thighs, and I awkwardly try to reach for him, but it’s too dark and I’m too high and too drunk and I can’t see._

_I tell him so, giggling. I feel like it’s all I’ve been doing. Giggling like an idiot._

_I feel his hand close in my hair and hold it tightly. I whine. Fuck I like it when he pulls my hair._

_Then he turns on the light to let me see and I don’t like it anymore._

_It’s not Simon._

_I gasp. “Roman sto...”_

_I can’t even finish my sentence. He’s already moving his hips forward, holding my face in place._

…

**Daphne**

**Baz’s hands are tight around the hair over his ears as he rocks himself back and forth on his chair, a litany of “Stop, make it stop.” coming out of his mouth.**

I feel my heart break a little more every time his cries get more desperate. 

Fiona has gotten down on her knees in front of him, calling his name, trying to bring him back to reality, but it’s useless. 

He’ll be stuck in his head until the memories that have been hidden from him are all back. 

It’s how the spell works. 

Malcolm’s hand has been holding mine since Baz let out a gasp. He’s been crushing it more and more ever since, a terrified look I’ve already seen too much on his face.

I mustn’t be in a better state. I feel like my legs are going to give up on me soon, and I’ve tried holding back the tears that were burning my eyes until I couldn’t anymore. When Baz started sobbing. 

After what feels like forever, he stops begging to _make it stop_ but he’s still holding his hair, his head low, breathing heavily and sobbing, thought more quietly.

Fiona strokes his knees and whispers things that I don’t quite understand to him to help him calm down.

I’ve never seen her act this caring. I know she loves Baz, it’s _very_ obvious, but they have this tough kind of love, a little bit like siblings. Fiona isn’t the kind to cuddle him and tell him sweet things, but as I see her now, I think that maybe, she used to be like that.

Someone had to raise that child, after all, and sadly, I know that Malcolm didn’t do a good job at being a father for Baz. 

Once Baz is calm enough for him not to be the sole focus of Fiona’s attention anymore, she turns around, fire in her eyes. 

Mine go to Roman and his family too. His parents look truly shocked, like they don’t know who their son is anymore, while he’s not letting anything show. 

“Are you going to keep saying you did nothing to him?” Fiona shouts, and I don’t know if it’s anger or worry making her voice tremble. Probably both.

“Fiona, move please.”

His voice is so low I think I’ve imagined it until Fiona actually moves, standing behind him like she was before. The moment he straightens his back, her hands are on his shoulders. 

I see him wipe his cheeks, which makes me think that I should probably wipe mine. 

My hand freezes on my face when Roman opens his mouth. “Aleister Crowley, why do you have to be so dramatic about it, it’s just a fucking blowjob.”

“Go to hell, Roman!” Baz shouts and he sounds so in pain, so utterly broken.

**…**

**Niall**

“I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”

Dev and I grab Snow’s arms before he can do something stupid like open the door and barge in the room. 

We’re not even supposed to be listening, I think. But hey, it’s not our fault Dev is so good at casting **Walls have ears.**

“You are not going to do anything,” I say, trying to pull him back, away from the door. “Not as long as he’s in there. You won’t help Baz by causing more problems.”

He looks at me, his eyes clearly saying “That’s what you think” but he doesn’t try to fight us when we make him sit back down.

**…**

**Daphne**

Baz is trembling. Really trembling, his whole body. It’s terrifying. I don’t know if he’s going to start shouting. Or crying again. But he looks seconds away from snapping and I’m not sure I want to find out what will happen when he does.

Apparently, Mitali doesn’t either, because she says, her voice less steady than it has been since the beginning of this meeting. 

“Roman, I think it would be better if you left this room.”

He starts to protest but Mitali shuts him up with a glance. “It was not a question. Out.”

**…**

**Dev**

We don’t hold Snow back this time.

The moment Roman has closed the door behind himself, Snow is on him, pushing him so hard that Roman falls on the floor, his back hitting it with a loud thump. Thank Merlin, Niall thought about casting a **Silence is golden** at the exact same time. 

In a heartbeat, Snow is crouching in front of Roman, holding him up by his collar in a position halfway between lying down and sitting. 

“You’re going to regret ever putting your hand on him,” Snow spit out before he hits Roman hard in the jaw. 

And again, on the other side of his face.

And again, on his nose.

And again, and again, and again. 

“Does it make us terrible people to just stand back and watch?” Niall asks as Snow gives Roman a nasty blow in the stomach with his knee. 

“Who cares about being good people?”

That seems to be enough for him. 

After a few more seconds, and a few more hits, Snow pushes Roman back again, his head hitting the stone floor. I can’t help but wince. That must have hurt. 

“You’re gonna get in trouble for beating me, you know?” Roman says slowly.

It shouldn’t feel this good to hear the pain in his voice. 

“No I won’t. Dev, Niall, which of you casts the best healing spells?” Snow asks, not even bothering to turn to look at us.

“I do,” I answer as I walk towards him and Roman.

I startle when I see Roman’s face. It’s a bloody mess -literally- I’m sure his own mother couldn’t recognize him.

“You can hit me as much as you want,” he says, because apparently the bloke has a death wish. “It won’t change the fact that he sucked my cock.”

The loud crack of his nose breaking makes me freeze in place, a strange combination with how hot my blood feels after I’ve heard him say _that._

When Snow turns his head towards me, I see that some of Roman’s blood has splashed on his face. That, and the satisfied look he has on his face are enough to send a shiver down my spine. He looks like he’s enjoying this. Probably because he _is._ I can’t say _I_ wasn’t enjoying hearing Roman’s pained whines and the sound of Snow hitting him.

Snow, who’s smiling. It’s a dark, cruel thing, that I could have never in a million years imagined seeing on his golden hero’s face.

I’m _never_ going to make Simon Snow angry with me. 

“Heal that bastard,” he orders, his voice dangerously sweet. “So that he’ll be all clean and fixed for me to break him again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how are we feeling about roman? :))))
> 
> about roman btw, for the spell he cast on baz, to me, he cast it at first because he knew that what he’d done was wrong and if baz didn’t remember it, he couldn’t talk about it, but then he decided to mention it to baz because he’s stupid and felt empowered enough from this knowledge he had that baz didn’t have to feel like there would be no repercussions for him if he alluded to what happened because baz still didn’t know -and wouldn’t have known for sure without the truth spell- so he still couldn’t denounce roman


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And just like that, when no one was expecting it, my Daphne obsession makes a comeback

**Baz**

I tell her everything. 

I wait for Mrs Bunce to cast a truth spell on me -it’s not illegal if you agree to it and it’s used in the context of a questioning or trial- and I tell her everything I can remember.

My voice is trembling, I fidget with my shaking hands, clasping them together, pulling on my fingers one by one, turning my rings, but I tell her everything.

Daphne gasps sometimes, but mostly she tries to hide her reactions.

Fiona holds onto my shoulders so tightly that if my skin was normal, I surely would have bruises.

My father stops me when he sees that I’m starting to pick at the skin around my nails and offers me his hand instead. I’m too in deep to even think of how strange it is when he does, but I think he needs to crush my hand as much as I need to crush his. 

I can’t even think of how _humiliating_ this whole situation is. I’m past feeling humiliated. I just want to be relieved of this weight I have on my chest. I want Roman to _pay._

When I’m done speaking, the whole room falls silent. I catch a glimpse of Mr and Mrs Attwood, who look like they wish they could disappear. Then I focus on the one person who matters the most here. Headmistress Bunce.

She knows I’m not lying. She knows it’s true now. She _has_ to believe me. But will she act accordingly?

I’m not asking for much. I just want for Roman to suffer some consequences for his actions.

And I want him to be as far from me as fucking possible. I think that if she doesn’t expel him, I’ll drop out. Fuck my honour, fuck being the first Pitch in the history of the family not to finish his eight year. I can’t stay at this school if he’s here. The idea of being stuck in a room for the classes we have in common multiple hours a week, for weeks on end… It makes my stomach drop. 

Mrs Bunce clears her throat and I take a deep breath.

**…**

**Simon**

I let out a breath when the door opens.

I let go of Roman a few minutes ago. Not because I wanted to, but because Niall heard they were nearing the end of their conversation, here in the room, and Dev had to fix both Roman and I before anyone got out. 

“You won’t have any _proof_ it even happened, that way,” I told Roman before Dev cast the first spell.

Baz steps out first. His face is paler than I’ve ever seen it, his eyes are red and he has tear tracks on his cheeks, but his chin is high and his back is straight. 

Typical Baz Pitch. Even after something like this, he’d be walking like he owns the place. 

If I said that out loud, he’d say that he kind of does. He wouldn’t even be wrong. The Old Families are obsessed with the Pitches, and even those who disagreed with them politically still had admiration for them as leaders. Baz would probably just need to show up at a Coven meeting and do his Baz thing and Mitali’s job would be his. 

His gaze first falls on Roman, but he looks away barely a second after, to look at _me_ instead. His eyes become a bit softer. 

My whole body is itching to hug him, but I can’t. Not here. Not now. 

“The Headmistress is waiting for you inside,” Baz says as he walks past Roman, not even granting him a look this time. Since our eyes locked, none of us have looked away.

I always thought grey was a dull shade, but that was before I fell in love with Baz. His eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think they could be more beautiful if they were colourful, like his aunt’s, which have green in them as well as grey, or blue like his father’s. It wouldn’t suit him as much. 

The only colours that truly suit him are the pinkish tones on his cheeks when he’s all flushed.

Baz finally stops in front of me, and I give him the sweetest smile I can manage right now. 

**…**

**Dev**

Baz and Snow look at each other like they’re the only two people in the world. Like the rest of us around them have completely disappeared.

And Baz _dares_ say Niall and I are disgusting because we snog when he’s in the room sometimes?

Hypocrite.

**…**

**Simon**

He doesn’t say anything. And I don’t either. Not until he hears the door to Penny’s mum’s office close. 

And then he falls in my arms, quite literally. I’m a bit started, I didn’t think he'd want to touch me after having just had to think and talk about… _that_ but he’s holding onto me like it’s going to kill him if he lets go, so I simply wrap my arms around him and hug him back. 

“It was awful,” he whispers against my shoulder, his hands gripping the back of my shirt. 

I rub his back in a way that I hope feels good. “But it’s over now, right?”

I feel more than I see him nod. 

“We’re going home. Mrs Bunce allowed me to leave school a day earlier, considering the circumstances.”

“But your exams?” I say as I move back, enough to be able to look at him. My hands fall from behind him, at the same time as his let go of my shirt, and I grab his hand when it’s close enough to mine to do so. 

I’m not sure he minds that I moved back, but I don’t think he’d be against me holding him a little longer. I don’t, though. He’s uncomfortable when we get too touchy-feely in front of his parents, and even if now he’s fine with it, he might not be in a moment. Holding hands is as far as he allows himself to go for more than a few seconds, usually, so that’s how far we’ll go now. We’ll have all the time in the world to cuddle when we’ll be alone. If that’s something he wants. 

“Don’t worry about my exams. Mrs Bunce said she’ll make me take the only test I have left in January. It’s Magickal Words, it’s one of my only non-theoretical subjects, so it doesn’t change anything when I take it. I’m not going to become a better mage in the span of two weeks.”

Yeah that makes sense.

“I would hate to interrupt, lovebirds,” Fiona says, making me jump. I had completely forgotten about her. And about Malcolm and Daphne and Dev and Niall and everyone who isn’t the boy in front of me. Fiona clasps his shoulder. “But we gotta get going.”

“You’re right,” Baz says, letting go of my hand and stepping away from me.

He looks at his parents and Dev and Niall over his shoulders. “Let’s go, then?”

**…**

Dev and Niall stay with us until we reach Mummers. There, they say goodbye to Baz. Niall quickly hugs him, something that would have seemed completely crazy to me mere months ago. I didn’t think Baz Pitch was the kind to let anyone hug him. I was bloody wrong about that. The bloke loves hugs. 

“You’ve been so brave. I’m proud of you,” I hear Niall say.

I’m proud of Baz too. I didn’t tell him. I should have. It must have been so hard for him. 

“I didn’t do anything _brave_ . I _cried_ in front of all those people, Niall. I was weak and pathetic.”

No he wasn’t.

“You’re not weak or pathetic for crying, Baz, it’s okay. Especially in a situation like that.”

Hey why didn’t I become friends with Niall before. I like how he thinks. 

“Don’t even try to argue,” Dev says, slinging his arm around Baz’s shoulders. “Niall’s always right.”

“No, I’m always right.”

“No, you want to believe that you are. Niall actually _is._ ”

Baz rolls his eyes. Fuck it’s good to see him do that. Act like himself. I know it might be temporary because all the stress and tension of his meeting with Penny’s mum just came back down and it’s very likely it’ll go up again later, but it’s a relief that he doesn’t seem _too_ affected. 

“Whatever,” Baz says, waving his hand. Then he looks at Dev “I’ll see you on Christmas?”

Why would Baz see Dev on... 

Oh. Yeah. Cousins. Right. I guess it’d make sense they’d have some sort of family reunion on Christmas.

“If I don’t die in the meantime, yeah.”

“Please don’t die in the meantime,” Niall says with a smile. “I could still use your company for a moment.”

“Only a moment?” Dev says, cocking an eyebrow.

It doesn’t look nearly as cool -and irritating- and when Baz does it.

“Forever,” Niall concedes, pulling on a grinning Dev’s arm. They’re kind of cute. “Come on now. Baz, I’ll see you when school starts again. Text me during the holidays and take care!”

Baz only answers with a smile before Dev and Niall walk inside the building. 

Malcolm, Daphne, and Fiona, who were doing there thing a bit further to let Baz and his friends say goodbye, walk up to us. There’s this tension between them that was already there when we were waiting near the Headmistress’s office. I thought it was because they were nervous about the meeting, but now I think that it’s just because they don’t like each other. Baz said that his aunt disliked his parents -especially Daphne- and that his parents were quite annoyed at her pretty much all the time, but that they tolerated her because she was Baz’s aunt. 

I think it’s a bit silly. They’re a bit of a weird family, but they’re a _family._

“Need help with your stuff boyo?” Fiona asks, her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. 

She’s a bit intimidated but she looks so bloody cool. I wonder if the white streak in her hair is natural. Penny said it was almost impossible to get snow white hair with dye -or bleach, whatever it is you put on your hair. She knows because she’s tried. Penny’s tried a lot of things with her hair. I love it. If it wasn’t a waste because of the fact that my hair gets shaved every summer, I think I would have asked her to lend me some of her hair dye to put some colour in my hair. 

“You can leave, Fi,” Baz answers. 

“You sure?”

I don’t even question how Fiona would even get inside Mummers. I shouldn’t question anything when it comes to the Pitches. 

“Aleister Crowley, yes.”

“I mean even if he actually needed help, I’m here,” I say, slipping my free hand in my pocket. 

“No you’re not. You’re not coming to the room with me, I have your Christmas present in there. You can’t see it and spoil the surprise.”

A stupid grin grows on my face.

My Christmas present.

Baz got me a Christmas present.

The only presents I ever got from Christmas were from Agatha’s parents, and I think it’s mostly because Mrs Wellbelove wanted me to have clothes she deems decent to walk around her house instead of my trackies and school uniform.

It’s heartwarming to think that someone, that _Baz_ got me something just because he wants to give me a surprise.

“You two are disgusting,” Fiona comments. “But you’re really _really_ sure you don’t need help? Packing takes time, and I’m not sure you can perform all the spells necessary to help you make it faster.”

“I don’t need _your_ help. I love you Fi, but I also _know_ you and you’ll just slow me down making comments about my belongings and Snow’s present. Besides, you’re going back home on your own. It’s stupid for you to be the one going with me when you could already be driving back to London. If I need help, I’ll ask Daphne.”

Fiona’s eyes turn colder. Maybe Baz shouldn’t have said that. He doesn’t look like he regrets saying it though, he almost looks like he’s challenging Fiona by saying it, looking at her straight in the eyes.

“ _Daphne_ ,” his aunt snarls. “Of course. Always _Daphne._ ”

Over her shoulder, I can see Malcolm and Daphne step back, Malcolm shaking his head. They’ve probably already heard the same things out of Fiona’s mouth times and times again and know not to get involved. 

“Leave her alone,” Baz says firmly.

“Don’t defend her like that, she’s not you…”

He lets out an irritated sigh. “Not my mother, I know.” 

That seems to be Fiona’s catchphrase whenever Baz dares say Daphne’s name.

“But my mother isn’t _here_ ,” he continues, surprising me. I think he’s mentioned that they could talk about his mum, but not her death. “And Daphne is, and I would _really_ like it if you could stop being so awful to her for being here for me. Would you rather she completely neglected me? Or hated me and made being at home a living hell? Because I don’t think my mother would want that for me. And you know, I would _love_ to be able to go to my mother when I need a mum, but she’s gone _,_ Fiona. _Gone._ I’ll never get to have that with her and it’s… it’s cruel that you’d blame me for wanting to be loved like that. And fuck, it’s not because I care for Daphne that I don’t love my mother. It’s not a one or the other kind of situation, I _can_ love both of them and I _do._ ”

**…**

**Baz**

I think it’s the first time I say I love Daphne. 

It’s also one of the first times I think it without guilt.

**…**

**Simon**

Okay, so Baz definitely mentioned Daphne on purpose. I think he needed to get that out and he used the first occasion he had to say her name, knowing that Fiona would most likely go on her little rant, to be able to say his thing. That’s something Baz would do. He likes to be prepared. In control.

“I can’t believe you,” Fiona says, looking like she _truly_ can’t believe him. Like she never expected him to say something like this. Like he just betrayed her in the worst possible way.

And then, just like that, she leaves. She doesn’t even say goodbye, she just gives Baz a look that makes me shiver and walks away.

Baz watches her go, and I can tell that he’s hurt that she didn’t even try to recognize the fact that Baz may have a point. I want to reach out and squeeze his hand, but another hand is on his shoulder before I can touch him, so I don’t. Long, thin fingers. Messy purple nail polish, most definitely applied by Mordelia. A multitude of small, delicate rings. 

“Basil, you shouldn’t have. There’s no point telling your aunt anything about this. I don’t want you and her to have a fight because of me.”

**…**

**Baz**

“It’s not because of you,” I say, turning to Daphne. 

It’s not. It’s really not. 

It’s not her fault that Fi won’t accept that Daphne has a place in my life now, an important one. 

And honestly, I don’t really blame Fiona. She loved my mother so much. She’s told me times and times again that my mother said that no matter how successful a mage she would become, no matter how incredible spells and theories she could come up with, _I_ would be the greatest achievement of her life. Fiona knew how much it meant for my mother to be that, a mother, and it hurts her that I could see Daphne as one, but I wish she could just put herself in _my_ shoes for a moment. 

I don’t have a mum. She died when I was little, and I spent my entire childhood without any real form of maternal love. Without any real form of _parental_ love, really. And then Daphne came along and she took care of me and ran her hands through my hair and rubbed my back as I cried and made me my favourite foods when I was sad and called me ‘honey’ and hugged me when I needed it and _loved me._

It was all that I had craved for so many years and it was finally given to me, and Fiona made me feel guilty for being happy about it.

“Still,” Daphne insists. “You shouldn’t have. Now, do you want help with your things, though?”

“Please.”

Fiona was right on one thing ; I can’t use magic to pack my stuff right now. I’m too exhausted. Breaking the memory spell completely sucked up all of my energy.

“How are you even going to make Daphne enter Mummers?” Snow asks.

I turn my gaze back to him. He looks a bit confused, but he doesn’t seem to doubt that I _can_ make Daphne come inside. 

“I’m a Pitch, Simon,” I say, as if it explains everything. It sort of does. “My family built this school. All the spells were cast by members of my family. Do you think they would have made them an inconvenience to themselves?”

“Oh. Yeah. Makes sense,” he says, nodding. He’s adorable. “So all this time, you could have brought girls to the room?”

“Let’s just say you’re lucky that bringing a girl to the room was never on the list of my priorities,” I tell him with a smirk that makes him blush.

**…**

**Daphne**

It’s like the weight of the world falls on Baz’s shoulders the moment he walks in his room. His shoulders drop, and he loses the confident look he had on his face when we were still outside.

I should have known there was a reason he didn’t want Simon, or Fiona, for that matter, up there with him. He wouldn’t choose me over them without a reason. He didn’t want them to worry about him.

This poor child. 

“Could you start packing on your own, please?” he asks me, his voice low. “I… I need to get something done.”

“Sure, honey. Take your time, I’m going to take care of your things.”

He shoots me a grateful look, and then he’s heading to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. 

**…**

**Baz**

I brush my teeth. I brush and brush and brush and spit and clean my mouth with water and use mouthwash and I start all over again, until there’s almost as much blood as toothpaste foam on the sink and my mouth burns because of the mouthwash.

It’s still not _enough._

I still… I still feel dirty. I have this bitter aftertaste in my mouth that won’t go. 

I’m about to start another time when I hear Daphne knock on the door. 

“Baz? Are you okay in there? I’m done, your things are ready.”

Damn that was quick. Or maybe I stayed in the bathroom longer than I think. 

“Yes, I’m okay,” I answer, the trembling of my voice telling the opposite. “I’m coming.”

I wipe my lips clean, rinse the sink, and after making sure I don’t look too miserable in the mirror, I walk out. Daphne is waiting for me, standing behind the door, a frown that she tries to hide on her face. 

She reaches out and puts her hand on my bicep. She’s not holding it tightly, simply stroking my arm with her thumb over the fabric of my school uniform. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

I look down. 

“Yes, mum, I know.”

It slipped.

No, I’m lying, it didn’t.

I’ve wanted to try it for a moment now.

Wondered how the world would feel on my tongue.

If it’d seem wrong, or if it would be just the right to say.

I’m leaning towards the second option.

“Baz…”

I don’t want her to say anything. I don’t want to hear what she has to say, don’t want to hear the emotion in her voice, so I just step forward and put my arms around her. 

I’ve never been the one to make the first step, the few times Daphne and I hugged.

Because she’s _not my mother_ so I shouldn’t want to hug her.

But after the initial annoyance, I was so glad that she had come with father.

But her presence was so calming in the Headmistress’s office, even if she didn’t do anything. _Because_ she didn’t do anything.

But she dropped whatever she was doing, leaving her children to Vera even if she hates doing that to come here, knowing that Fiona would most likely be a bitch to her, probably thinking she’d be kept out of things.

She hugs me back, tenderly, like she always does, and I let myself sink in her embrace. 

“Poor child,” she whispers, her fingers tangled in the hair at the base of my neck. It’s so low, I don’t think I was meant to hear it. She speaks louder when she says, “It has been a difficult day, hasn’t it?”

“Awful,” I nod, my voice breaking.

I hate this. I don’t want to cry again, but the tears are flowing on their own accord. 

“It’ll get better. It always does. You’re strong, Baz. So strong. You’ll get through this. I know you will.”


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was for Daphne, now we have Malcolm. Surprising, I know, but since I decided to make him not an asshole, I’m trying to stick with that

**Simon**

“Malcolm?”

He seems surprised that I’d talk to him.

I’m starting to be less terrified of Baz’s father though ; he’s always kind of cold like Baz is -was- but he isn’t actually mean, and I think he even likes me a little bit. He _talks_ to me sometimes when we’re all in the living room, just to talk, not necessarily because he has something to tell me about Baz. 

“Yes?” he answers, looking back at me.

“I was wondering if you could tell me how Penny’s mum, you know, punished Roman.”

Malcolm frowns. “I thought you boys had listened to our conversation. I heard it when Dev cast **walls have ears**.”

I blush. I didn’t know they had any idea we were spying on this. I hope Baz doesn’t know. Dev, Niall and I haven’t been welcomed in the room, I don’t want him to feel betrayed because we intruded on a conversation that was not meant for us. 

“Well,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yes, Dev cast the spell but, uh… well… when Roman got out of the room I… I kind of… I kind of stopped listening because… well… I… I was so _angry_ and he… he was _right there_ , I sort of… you know… _hurt him._ ”

I feel a blush spread on my cheeks as I say it. It’d be easy telling Baz I beat the shit out of that arsehole. It’s a bit more delicate saying it to his dad. I don’t think Malcolm is going to disaprove of me giving Roman what he deserved, but I’m not exactly comfortable with that part of myself. The darkest part of myself. The part of myself that wants to _hurt_. 

It’s always been there. In the care homes, when the other boys pushed me around too much and I wanted to hit them until they cried. At Watford, when Baz kept taunting me and I wanted to see bruises on his perfect fucking face. During missions, when I let this craving for violence take over.

It’s always been there, and I’m not proud of it, but sometimes I just can’t control it. It’s like how my magic was. I try to contain it, but sometimes it’s too much to be controlled and I snap. 

Today I snapped.

I had been on edge ever since Baz had called me, but when I saw Roman leave the room after he said all those terrible things and Baz cried so much, it was the last straw. I could think of nothing except that I wanted to see him covered in blood. That I wanted him gasping for air and crying under my blows. That I wanted to hear his bones crack and see his skin bruise. That I wanted to see the fear in his eyes, hear the pain in his whines. 

I feel my blood boil just thinking about all of this again, so instead, I focus my attention back on Malcolm. 

“Do you mean that you hit him?” he asks, with a gleam in his eyes that tells me he would definitely _not_ have a problem with it if I did.

“Yeah,” I admit, looking down. “So, well, I wasn’t really listening anymore.”

Malcolm pats my shoulder. “Violence shouldn’t be condoned but… thank you.”

When I look up at him, I see that he has the shadow of a wickedly satisfied smile on his face.

He definitely doesn’t have a problem with me beating Roman. I mean, I understand. If I had a child and someone did to them what Roman did to Baz… I wouldn’t be mad if someone beat them up. 

I simply shrug.

“So? What did Mrs Bunce say?”

I’d rather not dwell on my hitting Roman. 

Malcolm’s face becomes serious again. 

“Mr Attwood was expelled. That’s all Mitali could do for the moment, since she can take decisions on her own as Headmistress of Watford but not as Head of the Coven. Therefore, this will be taken to the High Court and he should be given a sentence shortly. Hopefully, there _will_ be a sentence,” he adds bitterly.

The High Court. That’s good, right? Everyone is afraid of the High Court. But Malcolm doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s a good thing.

“Why wouldn’t there be?” I ask. “Mrs Bunce knows that it happened, Baz said it under a truth spell.”

Malcolm sighs, adjusting his watch on his wrist. “The problem is not whether or not it truly happened. It’s whether or not the Coven will consider it a big enough offense for Roman to suffer consequences. Since it involves my son, I cannot take part in the vote, so only 11 people will. The less people there are, the easiest it is to have the majority. I know how the Coven members think, I’ve been working for them for decades. Sexual assault cases have only recently started really being treated as serious crimes, barely a century ago, and the ways of thinking of people about it are still quite outdated. Baz being a man, and the nature of the act in itself makes me doubt that this will be taken seriously by a lot of Coven members.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“I know. Justice isn’t always fair.”

**…**

I’m still fuming at the thought that the Coven might let Roman walk free without facing any kind of consequences for what he did when the door opens on Baz and Daphne. He’s holding his suitcase in his hand, and Daphne has his school bag slung on one of her shoulders, her other arm behind Baz’s back. He looks like he has cried. 

Well, it looks like he's cried _recently_ , he already looked like he had cried before he went back to the room. 

I want to reach out and hold his hand, or put my arm around his waist, or _something_ , but then I remember his heartbreaking sobs when he remembered what happened with Roman, so I don’t. I think it would be better if Baz initiated contact for a while. I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable or trigger him or something. I don’t want to make this already terrible situation worse just because I’m clingy. 

Instead, I give him a smile when he walks up to me, and start walking too. I’m kind of looking forward to being in the car. I want to be home, and I can’t say that I’m having a good time in the cold. The winter is ruthless here. I never noticed before. Now I’m blessing Baz’s idea to buy me a warm coat. He didn’t manage to make me get a scarf, back when we went shopping, and now I’m greatly regretting being so stubborn about it, and we left in such precipitation, I didn’t think about borrowing one of his like I do when I go play outside with the girls. 

Baz seems just as eager to leave. I can understand why. 

Once we reach the car, he puts his suitcase in the trunk, and then he’s collapsing on his seat, resting his head against the window. He looks exhausted. 

I climb on my side of the backseat, and hesitate. I _could_ seat in the middle and let Baz lean against me instead of the car. Or I could give him space.

I know that if I were him, I’d want space. But I’m not him, and Baz doesn’t often have the same reactions as me, so I’d rather ask, even if I’m almost sure I’m going to be rejected. 

**…**

**Baz**

“Do you want me to come next to you?” Simon asks, bringing my attention on him. He has a sheepish look on his face. Cute moron. “You know, so that you can rest your head on me. I’d say I’m a little bit more comfortable than the car,” he adds with a nervous laugh.

“That’s a lovely idea,” I answer, my voice already heavy. I’m so _tired_.

He looks relieved when he says it. He has a smile on his face as he settles next to me, while my parents take their seats as well. 

Once he has buckled his seatbelt, I shift until I can lean on him. The skin of his cheek is cold against my forehead. I don’t mind. 

I was expecting him to put a hand on my thigh, he likes doing that, but he doesn’t. 

I’m about to close my eyes and let myself rest when my father’s voice. “Do you want me to spell you asleep? Or, Daphne. Her magic feels better.”

Father’s magic is cold for everyone, but I’m already so naturally cold, it doesn’t affect me as much as it does them. It’s still not pleasant, but it’s not so bad.

“I don’t think I need any help falling asleep,” I say. I can feel my eyes closing on their own accord. “But I wouldn’t mind a **Sweet dreams**. And you can cast the spell, it’s fine.”

I’m afraid I’ll dream of… of the memories I’ve just recovered, if I don’t get any magical assistance.

My sight is starting to be blurry because I can’t keep my eyes open, but it’s enough to see my father take his wand out as Daphne turns the key to start the car. The vibrations are so soothing…

My father’s voice is a faint whisper in my ear when he casts the spell, and the coldness of his magic is more a comfort than anything else. Father hasn’t cast a spell on me unless it was to literally save my life in so long. The ice of his magic feels like my childhood, just like the fire of Fiona’s does.

**…**

**Simon**

It’s not long before Baz falls asleep, his head becoming heavier on my shoulder. I wait until I’m sure that he’s fully asleep to kiss his head and whisper a muffled “I love you.” in his hair, so low that I’m sure Malcolm and Daphne can’t hear it despite being _right_ _there_.

Which makes me think that it’s particularly surprising Baz would accept to let me sit next to him. I guess he’s starting to care less and less about his parents seeing us touch.

Admittedly, it’s not like the kind of touching we do outside of his room is anything sexual. I don’t think I would mind, personally. It was _so hot_ knowing someone heard us when I fucked him in his father’s office, all this time ago. But Baz minds. Baz minds a lot. I remember at first when he wouldn’t let me touch him _at all_ when we were downstairs with his family.

I think that Baz being more and more comfortable with displays of affection has to do with the fact that his father is more and more accepting of our relationship. He doesn’t look uneasy when he sees us act a bit couple-y anymore. I wouldn’t go as far as kissing Baz around his father to see how Malcolm would react to that, but I honestly don’t think he would even mind that much. 

I’m glad about that. Baz will want to marry me someday, I know it, he’s the kind to want marriage. It’d be an awkward wedding if we couldn’t kiss because it makes Baz’s dad uncomfortable.

A smile spreads on my face as I think about marrying Baz, some time in the future. Baz with a wedding ring on his left hand. I imagine it would catch the light every time he writes something. Baz and I with the same last name. Baz and I growing old together, and having this kind of routine with the other that Daphne and Malcolm have. I know that a lot of people my age of scared of that. Routine. Scared that the passion is going to fade if they get used to their significant other’s presence in their life. 

To me, it’s the opposite. When I hear Daphne say “Hello, darling.” to Malcolm each morning when he comes down for breakfast like it’s the most natural thing in the world, when I see him make her tea in the afternoon, the movements practically muscle memory, I catch myself dreaming of having that with Baz. I already know some of his habits and quirks, we have been living together for 7 years after all, but I want to know all of him. I don’t want to wake up and still surprise myself when I think that he’s my boyfriend. I want his presence in my life to be like set in stone. I want it to be a certainty. Unchanging.

The sky is blue. Fire is hot. Baz is mine.

We’re far from being there at the moment, but I hope we _will_ get there. 

I can’t say I would mind spending my life with Baz’s head on my shoulder.

**…**

When Daphne stops the car, Baz is still sound asleep, snoring softly. I don’t really have it in me to wake him up, but there isn’t another way. He’s too prideful, he’ll hate it if he wakes up and understands that I’ve carried him to his bed. He only let me carry him once, and it’s was only because I had fucked his brains out and he was too boneless to consider moving on his own. 

“Are you going to wake him up?” Daphne whispers, turning around to look at me. 

I nod. Then, carefully, I put my hand on Baz’s shoulder and shake it as I call his name in a low voice. I don’t want to spook him. He looks so peaceful right now.

It takes a minute, but eventually, he opens his eyes, craning his head to look at me.

“Simon?” he asks with that deep voice he has in the morning that makes my stomach feel all funny.

Not the right time to be turned on. Not the right time at all.

I focus on his cute, foggy eyes instead of on his sexy voice. “Hey, love. We’ve just arrived.”

“Oh. Already.”

He seems extremely disappointed. He’s probably still tired. 

I brush some loose strands of hair out of his face. “Come on, you’ll sleep better in a bed.”

“Good point,” he says with a yawn, difficulty pushing himself up.

He doesn’t even have time to reach for the handle, Daphne has already opened his door. 

He steps out and I follow him, walking behind him. He’s rubbing his hands together to try and keep them warm ; he didn’t put gloves on. Merlin, he gets cold so easily. 

He lets out a pleased sigh when he steps in the entrance hall. The lights of the rest of the house are turned off, so I suppose that Vera put the girls to bed and went to the part of the Manor reserved for her. Baz told me that she used to practically live here when he was a kid. Now she only stays on nights when everyone is out and someone is needed home to look after the little ones. 

I don’t keep Baz out of my sight, even as I take my coat off, watching _him_ take his coat off. His movements are slower than usual, fatigue making his hands weigh a ton, I suppose.

He went to bed so late last night. 

I can barely believe that it was just _last night_ that he was calling me up because he missed me. It feels like it happened a century ago. It must be even worse for him. 

“Do you want dinner or would you rather sleep?” Daphne asks as she takes off one of her high heels.

I have no idea how a person can manage to walk in those. I trip on my own feet all the time wearing _trainers_. 

Baz’s stomach gurgles. Hasn’t he been eating?

He looks sheepish. “I’d like to have dinner, yes, but I think I need to sleep some more before. Don’t bother making me food, I’ll go down to the kitchen.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he confirms, rolling his sore shoulders. 

Under different circumstances, I would have waited until we were together and asked him if he wanted a massage - _just a massage, Basil, don’t get wrong ideas._

“Come with me?” he asks, looking at me. 

“Of course.”

**…**

I’m surprised to see Malcolm putting Baz’s clothes away when we get to his room. 

Baz looks just as surprised as me. 

Malcolm is standing in front of one of Baz’s wardrobes, clothes folded over his forearm, putting them back in place the way Baz does. By colour. White, grey, black. Brown, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink. Each colour from the darkest to the lightest shade. 

Neat freak. 

“Father?” Baz says, stopping Malcolm in his tracks. 

He looks over his shoulder at us. “I carried your suitcase here, I thought I might as well go ahead and unpack it.”

Baz’s mouth forms a perfect “o”. It’s rather funny, honestly. “Well, thanks, that’s kind of you, but I’ll manage the rest.”

“Fine then. I’m just going to put those back,” Malcolm says, holding his arm with the clothes on it up. “And then I’ll leave you alone.”

And just like that, he goes back to what he was doing. 

Baz looks completely bewildered as he walks to the bathroom. 

**…**

**Baz.**

What. The. Fuck.

Since when does my father tidy my stuff? Since when does my father carry my suitcase up to my room?

I was expecting him to go to the blue lounge to fix himself a drink when we went back home, _not_ to unpack my things. By hand, nonetheless, not with magic.

This is so _weird._

**…**

I’m pulling my pyjama bottoms up when I hear knocking on the door of the bathroom. 

“Can I come in?” 

Father.

Merlin, this is all so strange. 

I hurriedly put on a shirt, and walk to the door, opening it. Father makes his way inside the room. 

I can see Simon sitting on my bed, playing with his phone over my father’s shoulder. At least he’s not getting bored waiting for me out there. I had to brush my teeth before I changed.

“What is it?” I ask my father, leaning against the bathroom counter. 

Please may it be quick, I won’t be able to keep my eyes open much longer. 

My father is visibly uncomfortable, but I can also tell that he’s determined to say whatever he has to say. 

He bores his eyes into mine, this dark blue I was dead jealous of when I realized Octavia had inherited it. _I_ would look so good with eyes like that -yes, I’m vain, that’s not new. 

I’m expecting a lecture. 

Basilton, why would you take drugs. Basilton, why didn’t you defend yourself. 

Don’t mention it ever again.

I’m expecting him to make me understand that I should pretend it’s not real, like my vampirism and queerness. 

Because it’s shameful.

Because it doesn’t give a good image.

Because the perfect son in a perfect family doesn’t end up with some random bloke’s dick in his mouth because he was too high to stop it.

“I simply wanted to tell you that I’m admiring of how you handled the situation you have had to face today. It must have been… so difficult for you. I’m very proud of you, Baz.”

What?

I made a fool of myself, is what I did. Why would my father be _proud_ that I nearly had a panic attack in the Headmistress’s office because I was too weak to handle the memories of fucking Saturday night? 

Niall said he was proud too. I don’t _understand_ why they’re saying that. There’s nothing to be proud of about my behaviour today. 

Nonetheless, my father telling me he’s proud of me is a rare moment, so I’m not going to ruin it by not answering.

“Thank you, Father.”

Maybe I could have called him ‘dad’. I used to, before I went to Watford. And it felt so right when I called Daphne ‘mum’.

Would it feel as right to call my father ‘dad’?

No, it’s ridiculous. I _chose_ to start calling him ‘father’, why would I change all of a sudden?

Would he even like that? The girls -well, Mordy- call him dad. The others will too, when they’ll mimic Mordelia saying dad instead of daddy. I guess he wouldn’t mind too much if I did. But I’m so much older than the girls.

My father puts his hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to reality. He squeezes it. 

“If you need anything, I’m here, okay? You don’t always have to go to Daphne. I…” he looks away for a moment, and clears his throat. I’m going to cry. “I love you, Baz. I hope you know that.”

I’m definitely going to cry. 

The lump in my throat prevents me from answering, so all I can do is nod. It’s ridiculous, and I want to curse myself for it, but if I tried answering, I would only start crying _again_. 

My father’s shoulders drop at my lack of answer, and the last thing I see before he turns away to leave is the defeated look on his face.

Of course he looks bloody sad. He just told me he loved me for the first time in _years_ and I didn’t fucking say it back. 

When he puts his hand on the door handle, I snap out of it and rush to him. “Dad, wait.” The tears are already starting to spill out of my eyes.

He startles. Of course he does. I close my eyes not to see the look on his face, in case he turns to me. “I love you too.”

There’s a silence, and then, I hear him open the door. Thank Merlin, he won’t try to get more words out of me. My bottom lip is trembling. 

“Simon’s waiting for you,” he says, a smile in his voice. “Good night.”

**...**

Mum and dad definitely feel more right than Mother and Father.

**…**

**Daphne**

I glance at Malcolm in the mirror when I hear the door open. I suppose he wasn’t feeling like eating dinner either. 

There’s a strange look on his face, something I’m not quite familiar with. I’m familiar with every frown, every twitching lip, every hint of trouble in his eyes. But this is new. It’s halfway between sorrow and relief. A strange combination, I must say. 

He takes his jacket off, putting it over the back of a chair, and as he sees that I’m still standing in front of the mirror, he then walks up to me as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

He undoes the last pin still holding my hair back, and lets it spill in waves down my back before putting his arms around me. My hair must tickle on his bare chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

It’s not long before I see tears flowing. It’s not surprising. He’s been bottling up since he got Mitali’s call.

He won’t let himself be vulnerable in front of anyone who isn’t me. I think it’s stupid, and definitely not good for him, but there’s no convincing him. He’s stubborn. 

I put my hands over his, intertwining the fingers of one hand and rubbing circles on his skin with the thumb of the other.

I’m not expecting him to speak, he usually doesn’t, in those moments. But today, he does.

“He called me dad. Just now.”

I feel a smile grow on my face.

It had been so hard to swallow for Malcolm when Baz started calling him ‘father’ and not ‘dad’ anymore. He didn’t say anything, of course. He never says anything. Not to Baz, anyway. Stupid, stubborn man. 

“That’s amazing, darling.”

I don’t tell him that Baz called me ‘mum’. I know he doesn’t care that Baz calls me ‘mother’, but it’s not the same thing. And Baz might never do it again, so there’s no point telling Malcolm about it. 

His hold on me tightens, and he lowers his head, leaning his forehead against the top of my head.

“I was so scared for him today, Daphne. So bloody scared. Why… Why do terrible things keep happening to him? Will he ever get a rest?”

I wonder too, my love.

“I hope he will.” 

I really do. He deserves it, after everything he’s been through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want Baz to have good relationships with Malcolm and Daphne. It’s all I want.
> 
> Random but as I was writing this, I checked the previous parts of that story to be sure there had not been an I love you from Malcolm previously (I was almost 100% there hadn’t but you know, it’s better to check) and there indeed wasn’t, but I found this “It’s probably the closest thing I’ll ever get to an ‘I love you’ from my father” in a Study in Trust so now I’m stupidly happy that I made Malcolm tell Baz he loved him, because Baz thought he’d never hear it


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon want to take care of Baz after the difficult day he has had

**Baz**

I want to talk to Snow about how bizarre this entire situation with my father is but I can barely walk to the bed before I collapse. I haven’t felt this exhausted in so long, but this week was already tiring enough with just my exams so the additional dose of stress and fear that the meeting with the Headmistress caused me has finished draining me. 

I feel the mattress dip and then go up when Simon stands up. Where’s that idiot going? 

“Snow,” I mumble, my face pressed against the covers. 

I’m not even far up the bed enough to rest my head on the pillow but the thought of pushing myself up right now feels as difficult as running a bloody marathon.

Not that running a marathon would usually tire me too much. Vampire. 

“What?”

“C’mere”

“I was going to take a shower as you rest, actually.”

I groan. “Who needs to shower, honestly.”

Couldn’t he forego basic hygiene just this once. 

But he was already kind enough to let me sleep on him in the car. I can’t ask too much of him. 

_I_ wouldn’t be so nice with him if he had sucked someone else off. 

He giggles. “I do. I’m dirty. You wouldn’t want grime on your bedsheets, would you?”

He’s got a point.

I groan again as an answer. 

“Do you want me to wake you up so you can have dinner? You said you wanted dinner.”

“Hm, please. But let me sleep. At least 2 hours.”

“Fine then. Let’s have dinner at midnight,” he says, laughter in his voice.

The last thing I hear before I fall asleep are his -loud, he’s an oaf- footsteps as he walks to the bathroom. 

**…**

**Simon**

He looks like he’s sleeping peacefully. Thank Merlin. Malcolm’s **Sweet dreams** must still be working. It’s a spell mostly used for babies, babies wake up multiple times during the night, so I guess it makes sense that it’d still be efficient as long as the person it’s cast on hasn’t had a full night of sleep. 

I let myself look at him for a moment, little droplets of water falling down my neck from my wet hair. I can’t see much of him, he’s sleeping on his stomach, but he’s still so beautiful. The arch of his brow. His high cheekbones and the hollow of his cheeks. Those pouty lips, that never look as beautiful as when they’re stretched in a smile. He looks like he was cut in marble. His pale skin does help giving that effect, I must say, even if at the moment it’s more this sickly, greyish shade than the pure white it becomes after he feeds.

A memory strikes me. 

I watched Snow White with the girls not so long ago.

_Lips red as the rose, hair black as ebony, skin white as snow._

That could be Baz. His lips get pretty colourful when we snog.

I think with a silly grin that I would have called him Snow White _all the time_ if he were a girl.

I still haven’t quite figured out if I’d be as into Baz if he were a girl. 

_Before_ I got together with him, I thought I was straight. It seems pretty clear that I’m not. But I’m not sure if I’m just into blokes or if I like girls too. I liked Agatha, but I never _wanted_ her like I want Baz. It didn’t make warmth bloom in my stomach to think about her naked, while just thinking of Baz shirtless... Well. I didn’t think about slipping my hand under Agatha’s bra or up her skirt as much as I think about letting my hand disappear under the waistband of Baz’s pants.

Maybe it’s just that I wasn’t attracted to Aggie like that. Maybe it’s that I’m not attracted to _girls_ like that. 

I’ve tried figuring that stuff out. Baz has introduced me to social media, you see a lot of hot people there. And the thing is I think they’re all pretty. The boys and the girls. But Baz said he was “gay, not blind” when I got surprised that he’d say a woman is beautiful, so I don’t know if I find them all pretty because I’m attracted to boys _and_ girls, or if I’m just “gay, not blind”.

I’d talk about it with Baz but I don’t want him to believe I think about this kind of stuff because I’m not satisfied with him. I’m quite happy being with Baz. I just don’t like being confused about this. 

Baz is _sure_ he’s gay, has been sure for years. Penny’s never shown the slightest interest in girls, and she knows that she won’t. 

I want to be like that too. Maybe it’s silly, and it shouldn’t be on my mind because I’m with Baz so I don’t _need_ to know who I’m attracted to, but I still want to. 

I’ve tried looking that stuff up on google, but I just got more confused. The online quizzes said I’m pretty gay, though. But I mean, those tests are kind of bullshit. They ask if I’ve felt sexual attraction for someone of the same gender in the past two weeks. I’m dating _Baz Pitch._ Of course I’ve wanted to shag a bloke in the past few days. 

I wonder if Baz was confused like that too, at first. If he ever wondered whether or not he liked girls too or if he knew it was just blokes from the start.

The only thing he said is that he knew it was _me_ from the start

**…**

I don’t let myself have another sexuality crisis right now. I don’t have time for that. Baz and I have to eat dinner when he wakes up, and I doubt there’s food left from the girls’ and Vera’s dinner, so I have to deal with that.

It’s going to be a disaster.

I can cook decently when I’m with Daphne or Malcolm, but that’s the thing _I’m with Daphne or Malcolm._

Right now I’m alone, and it’s not like I’m going to barge in their room to ask for help to make their son dinner in the middle of the night. I have to do this on my own. I _want_ to do this on my own.

I hope Baz will appreciate the sentiment, even if I mess up the food a bit. 

**…**

I mess up the food more than a bit.

I made lasagna because when Malcolm and Daphne showed me how to make that two Sundays ago -well, truth be told, they didn’t show me, I intruded on them while they were cooking, but that’s irrelevant-, Malcolm let it slip that it was one of Baz’s favourite foods when he was a kid, and Daphne added that she often made him that when he was having a bad day. 

So of course, I thought it was a good idea to make him that today. 

But it turns out that I really can’t multitask and that I’m much too clumsy to cook well.

I fucking knocked the salt in the sauce for Christ’s sake. 

Fortunately, I picked it up before too much salt had fallen on it, but it’s still more salty than it should have been, but I think I would have cried if I had to start over. 

And then I set the oven too hot so it’s a bit burnt.

It’s a bloody catastrophe. 

I’m contemplating throwing it all in the bin and boiling some pasta instead -even I can boil pasta- but I hate wasting food, so it’ll have to do. If Baz thinks it’s too disgusting, I’ll eat it myself and try to find something good for him to eat. It’s not like food is hard to find in this house. 

I cut Baz and I both a piece of lasagna once it has cooled down a bit, I grab cutlery and then I’m on my way upstairs. I’ll have to come back to the kitchen for water and glasses, though. 

I don’t look at Baz when I walk in the room to put the plates down on his desk. If I do, I’m gonna stare again and I won’t go get us a drink. 

When I open the fridge to take a bottle of water out of it, I see that the girls haven’t eaten all of the cake Mordy, Daphne and I made, so I take that too. If my food is too bad, we could at least eat it. It’s chocolate cake, Baz loves chocolate. 

As I climb on the bed to wake him up I hesitate. Maybe I shouldn’t wake him up. He clearly needs to sleep. But his stomach gurgled earlier, so he must need to eat too. He could sleep again after having dinner, right?

I call his name. If it’s not enough, I’ll shake his shoulder. 

It’s enough. 

He startles, but when his eyes fall on me, he relaxes a bit. “Dinner is served,” I tell him with a small smile. 

I give him some time to surface, stretching and yawning as I pick up the things I’ve brought to his room. 

He sits up in bed, putting a pillow over his lap for me to set his plate on.

**…**

**Baz**

Snow looks embarrassed when he serves me my food. He sits in front of me, on the other end of the bed, once he’s given me my plate, having this adorable blush on his cheeks. 

“I… uh… Well I kind of messed up the food,” he says, picking up his fork and knife. “So… uh… tell me if it’s disgusting, okay? I won’t be offended.”

I look down at my plate, and my eyebrows shoot up.

“You _made_ food?” I ask, glancing at him. 

I was expecting him to just boil us some pasta or make sandwiches. Something simple and quick. Not fucking lasagna. 

I don’t deserve him.

“Well, yeah,” he answers, rubbing his hands together. “I didn’t have anything else to do and, well, I thought you might… fuck it was stupid, but I just thought you might, you know… appreciate it.”

“I do, Simon. That’s very sweet of you,” I tell him softly. A smile tugs at his lips. “That’s one of my favourite foods, you know?”

He nods, flushing even more. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I made it.”

I love him so much. 

My stomach reminds me that I should be feeding it by making a disgusting noise, and I start cutting my food before it can make another sound. The top is a little bit burnt, it makes it complicated to cut through, but I’m certainly not going to complain.

I’m hungry, and Simon made that for me, because it’s something I like. There’s no way I’m going to complain. 

He looks at me expectantly when I bring the fork to my mouth. I have this instinct to hide my mouth with my hand, but I don’t think the meat is going to trigger my fangs, it’s too cooked for that, and Simon doesn’t mind them anyway. I suspect he finds them kind of hot. 

And then he says I’m the one with the questionable kinks. 

The food is crunchy because of the fact that the top of it is burnt, and it’s much too salty, but I wouldn’t trade it for the best dish in the best restaurant.

It doesn’t taste _good_ per say, but Simon made it with the heart. It makes up for the taste. 

“It’s disgusting, isn’t it?” he asks with a grimace after I’ve swallowed.

“It’s not disgusting.”

“But it’s not good either.”

“Let’s say it’s not the best I’ve had,” I admit. I’m not going to lie to him, he can taste his food too.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking down, glaring at the lasagna in his own plate like it’s responsible for all the misery in the world. 

“Hey, why are you saying sorry?”

“I could have made something I know how to do, or ordered a pizza or something but _no_ , I had to try that, and now you have to force yourself to eat that disgusting thing because you’re too polite to tell me it’s shit” he says, standing up from the bed.

He takes his plate and sets it back on the desk, the porcelain hitting the wood a bit too hard. 

“Can’t even make food without fucking it up,” I hear mumble to himself, his fist gripping the edge of the desk.

I’m about to say something, but he interrupts me when he grabs another plate that’s on the desk. It has cake on it. 

“Here, eat that instead. I didn’t make it on my own so it should be good,” he says, irritation in his voice as he quickly walks to me. 

“Wow, love, calm down. I’m perfectly content with your lasagna.”

“No you’re not, it’s not good, you’ve never eaten bad food in your entire life. I know you don’t want to eat it,” he says, speaking fast.

I can hear his heart pounding in his chest. Why is he getting so riled up over this? 

He puts the plate with the cake on it next to me, and I take advantage of his arm being stretched out in front of me to put my hand on it. He moves his arm away like I’ve burnt him. 

It stings a bit.

“Love, what’s wrong? It’s just food, and it’s really not as bad as you think, there’s no reason to be upset.”

He runs his hand through his curls, tugging on them a little. 

“I just wanted to make something nice for you and I had to fuck up even _that_!” 

“You didn’t fuck anything up, Simon. It’s amazing. I’m very grateful.”

It seems to make him even more frustrated. Fuck, that wasn’t the point at all.

“I don’t want you to be grateful! I didn’t do it to get a thank you, I did it because you had a terrible day and I wanted to try and make it a little bit better.”

He’s so kind. What did I do to be lucky enough to have him. 

“Simon Snow, you complete disaster,” I say, shaking my head with a smile. “Do you want to make my day better?”

He nods vigorously. 

“Then go get your plate and come have dinner with me. Let’s have a moment. Just you, me, and your overcooked lasagna.”

He snorts. 

“We don’t have to eat that, Baz,” he says as he gets on the bed. 

I suppose he won’t collect his plate. No big deal. We’ll eat the cake together. 

He sits on his knees next to my legs, a reasonable distance between us. He’s a bit too far, if you ask me. I couldn’t touch him if I simply reached out.

“Well maybe we don’t, but I want to,” I answer, picking up some food with my fork. “Besides, you haven’t even tasted it. Want a bite?”

I show him my fork.

“I’m not going to eat from your fork. It’s gross.”

“Snow. We’ve had our tongues in each other’s mouths more times than I can count. Aleister Crowley, I’ve had your come and your blood in my mouth, and you’ve had my come in yours. We’re past the point where it’s gross for us to use the same cutlery.”

I also had Roman’s come in my mouth.

I chase that thought before it gets an opportunity to make me sick, and I focus on Snow. My beautiful nightmare of a boyfriend. 

His whole face has turned red. Idiot.

“Yeah, good point,” he says with a laugh. “Well, bring on the food then.”

I do.

I bring the fork to his mouth, being careful to keep a hand under it in case it falls off, and I watch his jaw and throat move as he eats and swallows. He still doesn’t know how to eat with his mouth closed. It’s disgusting. It’s adorable.

He scrunches his nose. “It’s not good.”

“I guess you’ll have to work on your cooking, then. So that you can be a good housewife.”

He chokes on his saliva as he bursts out laughing.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz eats his entire plate, and then we eat the cake together, crumbs falling on his bed. I expect him to spell the bed clean, but instead, he just brushes them off. He must still feel too weak to use magic.

Which makes me think…

“When was the last time you fed?”

He frowns. “What?”

“The last time you drank blood. When was it? Your skin is all grey, it must have been a moment.”

He takes a few seconds before he answers, so I know I’m not going to like it.

He neglects his feeding so much, sometimes. He does the same thing with actual food as well, it’s so irritating.

“Monday. Last time was monday.”

I sigh. “Jesus Christ, Baz.”

“I was a bit overwhelmed with my exams, it wasn’t on my mind,” he justifies himself, playing with the hem of his shirt. 

“You’re an idiot,” I say with some tenderness in my voice as I push myself up. 

Monday. We’re Thursday. And when he fed on Monday, it was from the rats. He must be thirsty.

_Every night to feel good, every few nights to stay sane._

I feel his eyes on me as I head to the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

I look at him over my shoulder. 

“You know what I’m doing.”

**…**

**Baz**

Yes, I do.

Of course I do.

He’s on his way to get the razor. To cut his arm. To let me drink. Because I was forgetful and didn’t feed while at school. 

I don’t deserve it.

I feel like I can still taste Roman in my mouth, I don’t deserve to taste him. To feel the thickness of his blood on my tongue, the slight saltiness of his skin as I lick the wound clean. 

“Simon, no,” I say as he reaches the bathroom.

He doesn’t even bother turning around or stopping.

“Simon, yes.”

“Simon, _no._ I’ll go feed tomorrow morning. I’m fine.”

I never deserved the privilege to drink his blood in the first place. I deserve it even less now.

“You’re not,” he argues stubbornly, already coming back to the room, razor in hand. He still doesn’t know how to open it to get the blades out because he’s a clumsy fool. “I don’t want your blood.”

Yes I do. Of course I do. Drinking his blood is incredible. But I can’t have it.

He sits on the bed, handing me the razor decidedly. “Come on. You need it.”

I push his hand away, the razor falling on the floor with a clang.

“I told you no, Snow! Is it that fucking hard to understand?”

My voice is less steady than I want it to

He freezes and his face falls.

**…**

**Simon**

_I told you no. Is is that fucking hard to understand?_

I hate myself.

I’m the worst boyfriend.

I just wanted to take care of Baz after… after everything and I keep fucking things up. I always fuck up _everything_. 

I should have bloody stayed in my room and let Daphne take care of him. _She_ would know how to do it without making him more upset. 

“Baz, babe, I’m sorry, I… I’m so sorry.”

He raises his hand to stop me. “Just drop it,” he says, irritation in his voice. “I’ll feed tomorrow morning _in the forest._ End of discussion.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding, as I bend down to pick the razor up.

“And leave that too. I have to go to the bathroom anyway,” Baz says as he grabs the razor from my hand. 

His is trembling a bit. 

I hate this. I want to hold him back. To pull him into my arms and apologize again. But I’ve already done enough damage, I’m not going to add unwanted touch to the list of things I did wrong tonight.

So instead, I just watch him walk away from me.

**…**

**Baz**

The mint tastes better than the imaginary taste my wicked brain has decided I had to feel whenever I think about it. 

I just want to wash him off me…

 _No._ I’m brushing my teeth. That’s all. It’s got nothing to do with… 

It’s _just_ hygienic. 

It’s perfectly fine to brush my teeth again. 

I just ate, and it’s normal to brush your teeth before going to bed anyway.

I rinse my mouth, licking the blood from my gums until it stops coming out, and then I rinse my mouth again to make the metallic taste disappear. 

I wipe my lips clean too before heading out. I’m _finally_ going to bed for a long time. I’ve slept a lot already, but my body is still too heavy. All I want is to get under my covers, cuddle up to Snow, and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing. If he’ll allow me. 

When I step out of the bathroom, I immediately notice that it won’t happen.

The only traces of Simon left are the lingering smell of his skin and blood and the empty plates on my desk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *had* to mention Simon having that very formative part of a young queer person’s journey to self-discovery which is taking online ‘am I gay’ quizzes. I feel like it was a crucial element that this story was lacking😂
> 
> as for the rest of what I wrote... will a ‘I’m sorry’ be enough? :)


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

**Baz**

I hate hunting, but it particularly sucks -no pun intended- in the morning. Maybe I should have let myself accept Snow’s blood. I wouldn’t have frozen my arse off in the woods at the crack of dawn if I had.

But no. 

It was the right thing to do.

He couldn’t even bear to sleep in the same bed as me, drinking his blood would have been too much. Putting my mouth anywhere on him seems like too much. I don’t want him to think about where else my mouth has been and be disgusted by me.

 _I_ disgust myself enough.

It’s hard to swallow the blood of the rabbit I’m biting. I think I’ll go back home after letting go of it. I’ve already experienced throwing up blood, and I would very much like not to experience it again. Even if I knew it was not _mine_ , seeing all this blood was kind of scary. 

I hear chatter when I enter the house. So my family woke up. Wonderful. 

They were all still in bed when I left the house. I either went hunting longer than I thought, or they came downstairs shortly after I went outside.

I take my shoes and coat off, and then I’m on my way to the dining room. 

I was thirsty, but even now that I have fed, I still have this unpleasant feeling in my stomach. I suppose I wasn’t only craving blood. I never eat in the mornings usually, but it’s true that my feeding isn’t the only of my needs I have neglected during finals week. I think the last time I had a meal -before Simon’s lasagna last night- was Monday, for lunch. Snow would scold me if he knew that. _Daphne_ would scold me if she knew that.

It’s not my fault I forget to eat. I don’t _need_ to eat as much as a regular person does.

I hear a surprised gasp when I walk in the dining room. 

“Baz!” Mordelia exclaims. “You’re home!”

The twins turn on their chair to look at me, saying my name enthusiastically.

A smile spreads on my lips.

“Hello.”

“Is it to pick you up that Mum and Dad left last night?” Mordy asks when I take my seat next to her, the hand that carries a spoon full of cereals stopped halfway between her mouth and bowl. 

“Yes.”

I suppose it’s better if the little ones think they just picked me up. 

“So you’re back for the holidays, now, right? Simon said so. He also said he couldn’t wait.”

Snow’s whole face takes a lovely pink shade. 

“Hush, Mordy,” he groans

“Yes, I’m back for the holidays,” I tell Mordelia, before giving Simon a smirk. “I’m flattered, Snow, really.”

He glares at me, but doesn’t dignify my taunting with a response, simply shoveling some more food in his mouth. It’s disgusting, the way he eats. I wish I could actually still feel disgust about it. Instead, I’m just stupidly enamored. The things this boy does to me, I swear to Merlin. 

I reach for the cereals, the same as the ones in Ophelia’s bowl, then for the milk and a bowl, and help myself to some breakfast. 

When I look up, I see a puzzled look in Simon’s eyes.

“You’re eating.”

“Brilliant observation. Your reflection skills will always blow my mind,” I answer flatly.

He rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t be a pr…” He stops when he remembers Mordelia is here. Her jar must still be a thing. “Don’t be like that,” he corrects himself. “You never eat in the morning.”

“Well, today I do.”

“When did you last eat?” he asks suspiciously when I take a spoon in hand.

I should have expected that. 

“Last night.”

He snorts. “Yeah, thanks, I know that. I meant when did you last eat at _school_?”

**…**

**Simon**

He doesn’t answer.

Of course he doesn’t. Bloody prick. 

“Baz, please answer the question.”

“I don’t need to keep you updated on my eating habits.”

He swallows a spoonful of cereals.

“ _Basil._ I know you’re not telling me because it’s a long time. Just say how long.”

He’s worse than a child. It’s like he can’t take care of himself on his own.

When he talked to me about fifth year and he said Niall and Dev had to practically keep him captive in their room to make sure he’d eat 3 meals a day, I thought the whole thing was a bit extra, but now that he’s back at school, I realize that he _truly_ isn’t capable of feeding himself properly on his own. Even here, he only eats lunch and dinner, but at least he eats lunch and dinner. More often than not, while he was at school, I’d call him during dinner time and he’d answer -I called at this time on purpose, to see if he’d pick up and be in the room or if he’d call me back later. 

He lets out a loud, clearly annoyed sigh.

“Monday.”

It’s barely a whisper, but I don’t miss it.

“Mond.. Baz, it’s _Friday_.”

“Well yesterday it was Thursday. I ate yesterday. It’s not that bad,” he says dismissively. 

“I can’t believe you.”

Three days. Three whole days without eating. 

Shouldn’t Dev and Niall check their friend is eating? No, I can’t blame Dev and Niall. They’re great with Baz. And they’re his friends, they’re not supposed to babysit him.

 _I_ should have checked whether or not he was eating. I’m his boyfriend. It’s my job, taking care of him. Or making sure he’s being taken care of when I can’t do it myself. 

“Leave me alone, Snow,” he snaps, giving me one of those angry looks I’m getting less and less familiar with as time passes by. “We don’t all eat loads like you.”

The words, the way he spits them out, the look in his eyes… It’s like Watford all over again. I hate it. 

Baz is _my_ Baz now, not the Baz from Watford. But at this very moment, that arrogant prick who picked on me for years, who pushed me down the stairs and kept reminding me that I was not and would never be _enough_ is coming back. 

We never had a fight that made Baz talk to me like he did at Watford. I don’t understand why it’s happening now, I don’t understand what I did wrong, I just wanted to know when he last ate. Because I’m worried. I didn’t mean any harm.

“Boys, please,” Daphne says, calmly but firmly. 

Baz drops his spoon on his bowl and storms out.

He hasn’t even eaten more than two spoonfuls.

**…**

**Baz**

It’s unfair to be angry with Snow, I know it is.

But he left me alone last night.

He left me alone even though he said he wanted to make my day better.

He left me alone when I needed the feeling of his arms around me more than ever. 

He left me alone, and he wasn’t there to rub my back and tell me I was okay when I woke up crying and gasping at 5 in the morning with my mind full of pictures of Roman’s blissed out face when he came in my mouth and his cruel eyes in the Headmistress’s office. All I had were the too bright lights of the bathroom and the minty taste of my toothpaste. 

“Baz… open the door please.”

It didn’t take him long to follow me.

The door handle grated almost imperceptibly. I know his hand is on it. 

If he pushed the door open, I’d be in his direct view. If he pushed the door open, the first thing he’d see would be that I’m sitting on the sofa, hugging my knees, staring right back at him. Well, right now it’s at the door, but I’m looking where his eyes must be _behind_ the door. 

“Babe, please,” he tries again when I don’t answer.

It’s really low of him to use pet names. They make me want to blush like a schoolgirl. 

“Fuck off, Snow. I don’t want to see you.”

Yes I do. 

But I don’t want to just _see_ him. I want to touch him. I want to feel his hands on me, I want to taste his lips, I want to shiver when his breathing brushes my neck.

And I’m not sure he can or wants to give me that. After the car drive, he didn’t touch me yesterday. He usually can’t keep his hands off of me when we’re all alone in the same room. 

He sighs. “Can you at least tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m mad at you.”

Crowley, it sounds so childish. It _is_ childish.

“Yeah, I gathered. I’m wondering why. Please tell me what I’ve done wrong so that I won’t do it again.”

I don’t want to fight him. He’s trying to be understanding. Maybe he didn’t think it’d affect me that much, that he went back to his room last night instead of staying with me. 

“You left,” I tell him.

“What?”

He sounds confused when he says it.

“Last night, after dinner. I went to the bathroom and you left. I wanted you to stay with me. I _needed_ you to stay with me. But you left.”

It’s so fucking pathetic. I shouldn’t _need_ Simon to be okay, but fuck, I do. He’s always helped me hold on, even before we got together. Back then, the memory of him was enough. Seeing him in the room late at night when I couldn’t sleep was enough. But now that I know how his body feels pressed up against mine, now that I know how heartwarming his whispered words in my ears are, I need that. Thinking about him isn’t enough.

Not right now, at least. Not after what happened. 

Thinking about him now only leads to thinking about how disgusted he must be by me.

“I can stay with you now, if you want. I know it won’t make up for the fact that I left last night, but I can be here now, love. Can I come in?” he asks softly, putting more pressure on the door handle.

He isn’t expecting a ‘no’. I don’t want to give him a ‘no’.

“Yes, come in.”

He opens the door carefully, surprising me. I thought he’d rush to my side the moment he had permission to do so. That would be the Snow thing to do. He’s a brute. 

He walks towards me, taking in the sight of me. He probably thinks I’m pathetic. Weak. 

_Why do you have to be so dramatic about it, it’s just a fucking blowjob?_

Roman was right, it’s just a blowjob. It’s not like I actually… like he _actually_ raped me. There are so many people who have it so much worse than me, but here I am, being all miserable because I had to suck a cock.

It was just a fucking blowjob and I _can’t_ get over it.

Pathetic. Weak.

_You’ve been so brave._

No I fucking haven’t.

Weak, weak, weak.

**…**

**Simon**

I think he’s having a panic attack. Or starting to have one.

He sounded normal through the door but he’s sitting here with his knees against his chest and his eyes staring into space. He looks like I did when my magic did that shield thing, except for the fact that he’s trembling all over. 

I’m afraid to get too close to him. To touch him. To _scare_ him. 

He looks so hurt. Vulnerable.

I kneel in front of him, putting my hands on either side of him on the sofa. “Baz. Love, can you hear me?”

“Of course,” he answers, his voice quivering. 

He frowns when he hears himself speak. 

“You’re shaking, baby. What about we do some of those breathing exercises?”

He’s still not looking at me, his eyes not fixed on anything, but he nods, so I start telling him those steps that we’ve repeated to each other too much already.

Breathe in. One, two, three, four, five. Hold. One two, three, four, five. Breathe out. One, two, three, four, five. 

The first time, he gasps after breathing in for three seconds, making his breathing even more laboured. It takes some time, but eventually, his breathing evens out and he stops shaking. He blinks a couple of times, as if he’d just woken up, and rubs his eyes before turning them to me.

“You’re here,” he says, as if I haven’t been talking to him to make him calm down for a solid five minutes. 

Nonetheless, I give him a smile. I need to be good to him. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, what he’s going through.

“I’m here. I’m sorry I wasn’t when you needed me.”

“It hurt, when I left the bathroom and saw you weren’t there,” he admits, looking down at the floor.

“I’m sorry. I thought you would want space.”

He shakes his head. 

“That’s the last thing I wanted,” he says with a sad laugh. 

It makes my heart clench in my chest.

I’m so bad at reading Baz.

He always knows what I want, always _respects_ what I want, even when it hurts him, and I was stupid enough to do exactly the _opposite_ of what he wanted.

I should have fucking asked him instead of doing what _I_ thought was better like a moron. 

“What do you want, then?” I ask, because I made the mistake not to ask once, I won’t do it again.

“I want you to kiss me,” he blurts out without any hesitation, looking at me through those long eyelashes of his. 

Well, I can’t say that’s quite the kind of answer I was expecting.

“What?”

“I want you to kiss me,” he repeats, less sure of himself. “Your tongue in my mouth. You know the mechanics.”

“Baz… I’m not sure that’s…”

He looks so terrified that I stop talking. He looks like I’ve just told him the worst thing he could ever hear.

Will I ever do _one_ bloody thing right with him? 

**…**

**Baz**

It was fucking obvious.

Of course he didn’t stay last night because he didn’t want to be with me and not because he ‘thought I would want space’.

Of course he doesn’t want to touch me. To kiss me. 

I’m disgusting. I’m dirty.

**…**

**Simon**

He’s on the bed in a heartbeat. Fuck, I think that’s the first time I see him use his vampire speed. Well, not _see._ That’s the point. He’s gone so quickly I can barely see it happen.

“I knew it,” I hear him say, his voice breaking.

What the fuck?

I run to the bed, climbing on it and crawling next to him as fast as I can. He’s on his stomach, like he was to sleep, but this time, it’s not because he fell from exhaustion. I think it’s because he wants to hide. _From me._

What did I wrong?

I don’t _want_ to do anything wrong, but it’s all I fucking do. 

I want to reach out and rub his back. Run my hand through his hair. Bend down and kiss his cheek. 

I don’t do any of this. 

“Baz, what is it? What do you think you knew?”

“You don’t want to touch me anymore. Because I’m _dirty._ ”

He says the word with so much disgust, so much _pain,_ it breaks my heart. Tears start prickling my eyes.

I made him feel like this.

I stopped myself as I was about to touch him time and time again because I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, and instead, I made him feel like there was something wrong with him. Like I didn’t see him the same way now that… now that Roman had…

My heart is in my throat when I put my hand on his shoulder, pushing on it a little.

He gets the hint and turns on his side. Silent tears are falling from his eyes, rolling on his cheeks and nose. 

“Love, is that… is that what _you_ think? That you’re dirty?”

It hurts to say it.

He’s _not_ dirty. He’s strong and brave and so fucking admirable. 

He starts crying more, and that’s answer enough.

I don’t hold back this time. I’m not going to hold back if it makes him feel worse.

I lie down next to him as quickly as I can, wrapping my arms around him and pushing him back a bit more until I’m lying on top of him, like I sometimes am when we cuddle. It’s a familiar position. It shouldn’t spook him.

Tenderly, I put my hand on his cheek, wiping some of the tears there with my thumb. And then I lean down to capture his lips, feeling him melt underneath me as my thumb becomes wetter and wetter by the second.

I give him one of those slow kisses he likes, hoping the taste of me makes him feel as warm as the taste of him does me. 

I love snogging him so much. I know this isn’t about me right now, but I _really_ love kissing him. I love everything we do together, sexually or not, but I must say, snogging is really far up the list of my favourite things. 

Eventually, I pull back, and he instinctively moves his head up a bit, looking for more contact. If I didn’t have to _talk_ to him right now, you can be sure I’d have already crashed my lips against his again already. 

Instead, I move a bit awkwardly until I can rest my elbows on the bed to be able to cup his face with both my hands without crushing him completely. 

I don’t think I _could_ crush him. He’s a vampire. But still.

“You’re not dirty, Baz. I don’t know if my words mean anything, and I don’t think it will convince you if I say it, but you’re _not_ dirty.” I peck his lips. “You’re perfect.” Another kiss. “As perfect as you’ve always been.”

I don’t really know what to say to him, honestly. I’m shit at comforting people in general, but this is a situation I’m completely overwhelmed by. I don’t have a single idea how to handle this. 

“But I… he… he has…” Baz starts, his beautiful grey eyes full of hurt.

I stroke his cheeks with both my thumbs, and lean down once more. 

“He’s done things to you,” I say when my lips aren’t on his anymore, boring my eyes into his. “But it doesn’t… It does make you… lesser. You’re not… you’re not _dirty_ because he touched you. _He_ is disgusting. Not you. Never you.”

**…**

**Baz**

He seems so sure of it, I want to believe it.

He’s not sure of what he says, of course. It’s Snow. I’d worry if he could string a full sentence without tripping on his words. At least I know he’s being _honest_ when he stammers like that. That he couldn’t possibly be reciting something he prepared. That he’s simply saying what his heart, this incredibly big heart of his, is telling him to say. Words he believes.

I _want_ to believe them too. 

But I don’t.

Not yet.

But maybe… maybe with Simon, and with time, I will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be Malcolm and Daphne’s interlude because i CANNOT handle this anymore i need to write something soft  
> Malcolm and Daphne had their bonus in the two first parts after all, i wanted them to have one in this part as well. and it’s not some sad thing about Malcolm’s disaster of a relationship with Baz, or Natasha this time


	25. Bonus - Daphne and Malcolm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff fluff fluff fluff  
> i really needed the fluff

**Daphne**

Maybe I should wait.

No, I can’t.

It’s selfish, but I need answers. I need _confirmation._

I’ve waited enough. I’ve been counting days for Baz’s return, and now he’s here. I _can_ ask him.

I simply hope I’m not interrupting something. I don’t think they would be… Not so soon after what happened… but you never know.

I gather up some courage, and knock on the door. 

“Baz, could you come here please honey?” I ask before he can have a chance to tell me to come in, or to leave.

I don’t need to be in his room for this. I only need him with me. 

I hear the floor creak, spells could never truly fix that, and soon enough, the door opens on Baz.

He looks less miserable than this morning and at lunch. That’s a good thing. I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to help him with what he’s going through, I’ve tried forcing my care on him when he didn’t want it before and it was a disaster, but I’m glad he’s letting Simon help him. I would hate to see him fall back into the headspace he was in two years ago.

“What is it?” he asks, brows furrowed.

“I need you to cast a spell for me, if you’re okay with that.”

He frowns more, looking curiously at me, before turning his head, addressing Simon. “I’m coming back.”

Then, he’s stepping out of his room, closing the door behind himself. 

“What do you need me to cast? Why can’t you do it yourself? Or ask dad?”

I give him a smile. “Come with me. You’ll understand.”

**…**

I can tell the exact moment he understands.

His eyes are fixed on the two white sticks on the bathroom counter. Then they fly up to me, a surprised look in them.

“You… You are…”

I shush him. Malcolm is in the other room, I can’t have him hear us.

“That’s what I would like to know,” I whisper. “which is why I need you to cast a diagnosis spell on me. I suppose you understand why I could not ask your father.”

He’s still staring at me with those wide eyes. 

“The spell, Basil, please,” I say, laughter in my voice.

I didn’t think he’d be so shocked. It’s not like it’s completely unbelievable. 

He snaps out of his confused mood and takes his wand out of his hair. I told him _a million times_ not to use his wand to hold back his hair. It’s dangerous. 

He pronounces the words of the spell clearly, and I hold my breath as I feel the fire of his magic course through me, looking down. 

There’s nothing.

My shoulders drop. The tests were both positive…

Suddenly a pinkish halo of light circles my stomach and I feel a smile grow on my lips.

My hand goes rest on my stomach instinctively as I look back to Baz.

His face is completely blank.

“Baz?”

He gives me a nervous laugh when he realizes I’m looking at him. “I… Congratulations, I suppose? If you’re going to keep it, that is.”

Well, I can’t say that’s quite the kind of reaction I would have wanted. 

My smile fades. 

“Don’t hide your enthusiasm.”

“It’s just…” he starts, tucking his wand under the waistband of his trousers. “Octavia is only a few months old, isn’t it a bit rushed, to have another baby now?” 

“Are you the one who’s going to raise this child?” I ask, my voice colder than I want it to.

He’s the first person to know, before even Malcolm. Maybe he could have tried to _pretend_ to be happy for me. 

“Daphne… no… I… I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking down at his feet before turning away. “Good night.”

It’s the last thing he says before leaving. 

**…**

I’m not so sure how I should tell Malcolm, now. 

I assumed he’d be as excited as I am but after seeing Baz’s reaction… What if Malcolm thinks the same? That it’s too soon?

It’s true that Octavia is still a very young baby, after all. 

But I’ve had twin babies, I should be able to raise two children who are a year or so apart, right?

But I only had Basil and Mordelia when the twins were born, and Mordelia was already 4. 

Now… 

Now there’s five of them. Plus Simon.

Merlin, I have no idea how long Simon and Baz will live here. I assumed that Baz would want to go to uni and that they’d move in September, but I’m not sure. For all I know, they might keep living here. 

It wouldn’t bother me at all, of course, but it’s two more people in the house. Even if they’re teenagers, they can still be a lot of work, sometimes. 

Maybe Baz is right, and it’s too hasty, having another child now. 

**…**

Eventually, I have to leave the bathroom. Malcolm is going to wonder what I’m doing there, it’s been an hour since I told him I was going to change for bed.

With my luck, he fell asleep.

At least if he did, the choice is made for me. I won’t have to tell him tonight. 

Unfortunately, he is awake.

Well awake, I must say, if the speed with which he puts his book away, the shadow of a smile on his face, is anything to go by. 

“You took your sweet time in there, Mrs Grimm.”

Oh, he’s definitely very much awake.

The look in his eyes changes when I only answer with a nervous smile, and he sits up straighter. 

“Is there something wrong?” he asks, offering me his hand.

I cross the distance between us, intertwining our fingers when I’m close enough to do so. 

My hand is clammy against his. 

“I wouldn’t say wrong, but it’s… delicate.”

I feel his hand that’s not on mine rest on my thigh, his thumb rubbing circles. “Should I be worried?”

“I’m pregnant.”

At least it got out.

His thumb freezes and his eyes go wide. I suppose he wasn’t expecting something like that, let alone to hear it this suddenly.

I must say, I’ve announced my other pregnancies better. But I didn’t feel this lump in my throat at the thought that he might not be thrilled about having a child, the other times. Even for Octavia, I was rather confident that Malcolm would be happy, and Merlin knows she was a surprise. 

_An accident_ , people said back then. As if I could consider my daughter to be an _accident._ She wasn’t planned, she was a surprise. Not an accident. This baby isn’t an accident either. 

“You… You’re really…?” Malcolm asks, his eyes flicking between my face and my stomach. 

“Yes. I know that Octavia is still little and that it’s not the best of times…”

He’s standing up and pulling me into a hug before I can continue. 

“Who cares,” he says, and I can hear the excitement in his voice. It lifts the weight on my shoulders, and I let myself relax in his arms.

He moves back enough to cup my face. “We’re having a baby. It’s wonderful.”

His eyes are shining in that way that brings me back to the first time he said those words, _‘We’re having a baby’_ , eight years ago, kneeling on the cold tiles of the bathroom. I was fully panicking, while he was practically glowing from joy, checking the two lines on the pregnancy test every five seconds to make sure they weren’t an illusion.

I’m so glad he’s not any less happy now than he was then. 

I feel this exhilarating feeling that coursed through me when I saw the results of the pregnancy tests and of the spell overwhelms me once again.

“We’re having a baby,” I confirm, nodding vigorously, tears rushing to my eyes. 

The pressure he applies on my jaw is almost painful when he stills my head to kiss me. 

He pulls back, and his eyes are wet too. 

“With our luck,” he says, chuckling as he rests his forehead against mine. “It’s going to be another girl.”

I laugh. We had hopes that our second child would be a boy, that way, we would have had a girl and a boy together. Instead, we got twin girls. “That wouldn’t surprise me. I’m still hoping I’ll have my little boy.”

He kisses me again, before dropping on his knees, his hands following the fall of his body and stopping on my hips. He presses a kiss on my stomach, and I let my tears start flowing.

“You heard that little one?” he whispers. “Be good to mummy from the start and be a boy.”

His breath tickles, even through the fabric of my nightgown. I step back, my voice tinted with amusement when I say, “Darling, come on. Get up.”

“Hush, I’m convincing the baby to be a boy.”

“I’m not sure that’s how those things work.”

“Hey, you never know. It worked for Baz.”

I wipe my cheeks as I shake my head. “Did it, now?”

“Yes.”

He finally gets back up, sitting on the edge of the bed. I step closer until my body is between his legs, close enough for Malcolm to kiss my stomach again. 

My hand absentmindedly disappears in his hair. It’s so soft. “You should have worked your magic sooner, then. We wouldn’t have had so many girls,” I tease him.

He looks up at me, a playful gleam in his eyes. It all feels like the beginning of our relationship again.

“Maybe it was part of my plan the whole time,” Malcolm whispers like it’s a secret. “Not giving you a son so that you’d have to keep having babies with me if you wanted a boy.”

I chuckle. “You like having children with me that much?”

“Well,” he says, circling my waist with his arm. “I like _having_ them. But I also very much enjoy _making_ them.”

And just like that, he’s tumbling on the bed, dragging me down with him, laughter filling the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don’t want to go back to writing angsty stuff :(


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

**Simon**

“I’m a moron,” Baz groans the moment he’s back in bed, his head buried on a pillow.

I turn to him curiously. He’s much more the kind to call _me_ a moron than to call _himself_ one.

Besides, he wasn’t gone that long and he was with Daphne. How could something go wrong with _Daphne_?

“Why is that? What have you done?”

“Daphne needed me to cast a diagnosis spell on her because she thought she was pregnant and when the spell showed that she was indeed pregnant, I was an arse about it.”

Did he just say...

“Wait, wait, wait. Daphne’s pregnant?” I ask, shifting to lay on my stomach next to Baz. 

I prop myself up on my elbows and bend my head down, looking at him in the hope that he’ll feel my gaze and look back at me. 

“Yes _._ And she was excited to find out and I ruined it because I’m a prick,” he says, his voice still muffled by his pillow. 

“Your parents are having a baby. A little baby,” I say, a smile growing on my face.

I don’t know why I’m so excited about this. It’s not like I’m the one having a baby, but just thinking of a tiny little baby, even smaller than Octavia…

“ _Yes_. Can you focus on me, I’m having a crisis here.”

I barely hear what he said, and not just because he’s mumbling.

A _baby._

“Do you know how far along Daphne is? When will the baby be there?”

He lets out a frustrated sound, slamming his head against the pillow. “ _Snow.”_

“What?”

“I’m telling you that I’m a terrible person and you’re getting distracted by something else. Focus on me.”

That makes me laugh. As if _focusing on him_ hasn’t been my main activity for the past few years. 

“Baz, love of my life, light of my days, have your crisis in silence, I’m thinking about your future sibling.”

**…**

**Baz**

I can’t believe he’d call me the _love of his life_ when he’s making fun of me. I hate him so fucking much. What did I do to deserve this. 

The worst part is that my heart still missed a beat when he said it even if I _knew_ he was taking the piss out of me.

Motherfucker.

I look up from my pillow just enough to see the grin on his face. He’s so fucking beautiful it hurts. 

He does look happy that my parents are having a baby, for some reason. I mean, with how he grew up, he never got to experience what having a family was like in general, but he never experienced having siblings either. Maybe he’s projecting on that baby or something and the fact that he’ll get to see Daphne’s stomach become rounder and rounder and see the baby in the hospital after it’s born makes him feel like he’s going to have a little sister or brother. 

I must say he’s pretty well integrated in my family now, on first name basis with my parents and all that. I wouldn’t be surprised if, in the case that Simon and I stay together -and fuck, do I hope we will-, he’s more to that baby than just his brother’s boyfriend, just like with the twins who I suspect adore him more than they love me, and Octavia, who’s too little for this and just see this boy in her environment all the time. Mordelia is the only one who really understands that Simon is my boyfriend. My heart goes a little crazy when my little sister calls Simon my boyfriend.

**…**

“So, what happened with Daphne?” Snow asks after babbling enthusiastically about the baby some more, asking me questions I didn’t have the answer to and punctually saying my name to show that he was talking to me while I was pretending not to listen, even though I very much _was_ listening.

He says it’s hot when I talk about my “nerd stuff” because I’m passionate about it. I think I understand what he means. It felt so good just listening to the flow of his excited words. It made me want to snog him silly. 

I turn my head, resting the side of my face on the pillow to be able to look at him. I want to lean in and kiss him, but he’s _finally_ letting me say my thing so I’m not going to distract him.

“Let’s just say I wasn’t as enthusiastic as you when I found out that she was pregnant. Daphne isn’t _old_ but she’s not as young as most people who get pregnant, and she had twins and a baby in the span of three years. It might be a lot for her body, you know? And I’m not sure you know that, but pregnancies for mages are more trying and risky than for Normals since the baby has magic. I… If it has a lot of it, it can be hard on the mother and...”

I realize what I’ve said when I see his eyes get a little sad. “That’s what killed my mum, right? I had too much magic and it was too much for her body to handle?”

The way he says it breaks my heart a little bit.

“I think so, yes,” I admit. 

I reach out to stroke his arm. “But it doesn’t mean it was your fault, alright?”

He nods. Then he take a breath a bit deeper than the others, shaking his head and boring his eyes into mine. I know that he’s focusing on what I’m saying again.

“So that’s why you didn’t react well? Because you’re worried?”

“Well, mostly, yes. There’s so many things that could go wrong with that pregnancy, for Daphne and for the baby alike, it’s the first thing that crossed my mind when I saw she was pregnant. I… I _know_ that when she was pregnant with Octavia, it wasn’t an easy pregnancy. I wasn’t here to see it and they never talked to me about it so I have no idea how bad it was, but I _know_ that it wasn’t as easy as when she was pregnant with Mordy. I’m afraid that pregnancy will be worse.”

“Well… I mean it makes sense that you’re worried,” Simon says, shrugging my hand that’s still on my arm away, only to grab it. He brings it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles, which would make me blush like a schoolgirl if I could blush. “Don’t beat yourself up too much for not being all excited when you found out she was pregnant. It’s Daphne, just say sorry and she’ll forgive you.”

“But it’s not just that I wasn’t excited. I also said that I thought it was a bit rushed of them to have a baby now which was kind of a mean thing to say, but it _is_ rushed. Octavia may not even be one year old when that baby will be born, but it made Daphne sad when I said it. I’m an idiot. I should have kept my bloody mouth shut.”

Simon shrugs. Of course. 

“Basil, I’ve never known you to keep your mouth shut when you have an opinion to give,” he says, teasingly, giving me an attempt at a smirk. Adorable moron. “But yeah maybe you could have shut up just this one. I mean, even if it’s rushed, it’s your parents’ problem, innit? If they think they can handle another baby, good for them. It’s not like you’re gonna be staying here much longer.”

He says that as if it’s sure. As if I am indeed not going to be staying home much longer. As if it’s a decision that’s been taken.

I could use a change in conversation, so I jump on that.

“You do realize that we’ve never really talked about that,” I say, taking my hand back from Simon’s grip to push myself up on my elbows “What we’ll do after I’m done with Watford.”

He frowns and then looks at me with bewildered eyes, as if it only hits him now that I’ve said it. He rolls on his back, looking at the ceiling. “I mean, I assumed you’d go to uni and I’d go live with you if you wanted me to.”

_If you wanted me to._

Idiot. Does he really think I could _not_ want him to?

It’s torture not having him as my roommate at Watford, and it’s only the case because he _cannot_ be my roommate anymore. I wouldn’t miss on an occasion to live with him when it’ll finally be a possibility again.

“Weren’t you supposed to live with Bunce after Watford?” I ask, because being difficult is my specialty and I like ruining things for myself. 

He shrugs. 

“Well, I’m not shagging Penny, you know.”

The comment almost makes me choke on my saliva. 

“I love her, she’s my best mate and all, but between living with her and living with _you_ ,” Snow says, rolling again, to hover over me, on all fours. “I’d say that’s an easy choice.”

“Because you’re shagging me,” I say, giving him a teasing smile.

“ _Partly_ because I’m shagging you. It’d be terribly awkward to fuck with Penny in the next room, even with a silencing spell. But also just because I want to live with you. As surprising as it seems, it’s not totally horrible spending time with you.”

I snort. “Wow, you do know how to sweet talk a bloke, Snow.”

“I don’t need to sweet talk you anymore. You’re already _hopelessly in love with me_ ,” he says with much drama, pressing his wrist to his forehead and throwing his head back.

Yes.

Yes I am.

I nudge his shoulder, a breathy laugh I can’t hold back passing my lips. “No, but seriously Simon. Is that what you want? For us to live together next year?”

**…**

**Simon**

Next year and many others after that one, I hope.

**…**

**Baz**

He gives me a heartwarming smile. “Yeah, of course. Only if you want that too, though. We don’t _have_ to live together, it’s okay if you want your own place to, you know, have some peace.”

I’d much rather face the chaos that living with Simon Snow represents than have _peace._

He really doesn’t realize how much I need him, does he?

“Not having you near me isn’t peace,” I say, reaching out to brush some of his curls back. His hair grows incredibly fast. I love it. He always looks beautiful to me, but I can’t lie and say that I don’t prefer him with a good amount of curls on top of his head. “Peace is when you finally shut up and cuddle me,” I add, because I can’t go too soft on him.

He gets incredibly soft on _me_ when I do and my poor undead heart can’t handle that. 

“Is that a suggestion?” Simon says, a gleam of amusement in his eyes 

“I don’t know, is it?”

He rolls his eyes.

I expect an irritated comment, but instead, he trails his finger along my jaw. 

_Fuck._

Fucking bastard.

I control myself not to shiver. I’m so bloody weak to his touch. 

“You know, Basilton,” he says with that deep, hot voice, that makes warmth bloom in my stomach. I can’t believe he can make that name sound so hot. “If you want cuddles you can just ask instead of being a prick about it.”

“I _can_ just ask, but where’s the fun in that, huh?”

He rolls his eyes again, with a smile on his lips this time, before I can’t see his face anymore because he’s nestled it in the crook of my neck. 

He got down a little bit too quickly and his nose accidentally bumped against my bite marks. It takes all of my will not to recoil. 

He didn’t do it purposely. He knows not to touch them. And he doesn’t even think they’re gross, I think. It’s fine. 

He kisses my neck, far from them. Then he shifts until he’s in a better position on top of me, his chest aligned with mine and his legs around mine. One of his arms is over his head to play with the part of my hair that is splayed against the pillow, and his other arm is bent so that he can hold my face with his hand. 

He’s everywhere. The weight of his body. His warmth. His smell. His touch. I’m completely surrounded by Simon Snow. It’s wonderful.

I should feel trapped, underneath him like that, but instead, I just feel safe. Like he’s shielding me from the world. No, that’s not right. It feels like the world isn’t even there. Like there’s only him.

“Isn’t this a little bit better than having some fun by taunting me?” he whispers his voice vibrating against my neck.

I pretend to think about it, and then say very seriously. “No, annoying you is funnier.”

“I hate you so much.”

**…**

Eventually, Snow starts yawning a lot and we decide to go to sleep. I’m still a bit tired, last week was really intense, so I think I might manage to fall asleep rather quickly. 

He shifts until he’s sitting on his knees, waiting for me to position myself how I want. He doesn’t really have a preference when it comes to how we sleep, so he just adapts to how I want it. Tonight I want the feeling of _him_ around me more than I want to be holding him, so I simply stay on my back, opening my arm for him to come and cuddle up to me. Soon enough, I can feel the weight of his body next to and on mine again. He pulls the covers up -he doesn’t run as hot now, we both need them- and sighs contentedly when he stops moving. I can’t see him but I’m sure he’s closed his eyes already.

Something isn’t right, though.

“Simon.”

“What?”

“Your hand.”

“What about my hand?”

“It’s not up my shirt.”

I feel more than hear him laugh softly. “Do you want me to put my hand under your shirt?”

“Yes.”

So he does. He untucks my shirt from my pyjama bottoms and slips his hand under it, resting it high on my stomach. Usually it’d be right over my waistband, and he’d trail his pinkie along the skin there teasingly.

He starts rubbing my stomach, which has the ability to make me turn into a puddle, and it almost stops me from protesting. Almost.

“Simon, I know you’re full of good intentions, but you don’t need to be careful about how you touch me.”

His hand stops. “I’m afraid of making you uncomfortable.”

“I know. But it makes me feel more uncomfortable if you hold back. I don’t like you treating me like I’m a fragile thing. If you touch me in a way that makes me uncomfortable, I’ll tell you. If I don’t say anything, assume it’s fine.”

He nods. “Okay, then,” he says, leaning his head to kiss my shoulder. “Good night, babe.”

“Good night.”

He resumes his rubs on my stomach, and this time I just let myself melt under his touch.

**...**

I don’t have a nightmare tonight.

**...**

The first thing I do the morning after when I get down for breakfast is apologize to Daphne. 

Thankfully, my father is still asleep, so it’s just me, her, and the little ones. Mordelia doesn’t listen to what I say in general -I’m boring, apparently- and the twins are too little to understand what’s going on even if they listen.

After saying hello, I sit on my father’s chair to be next to Daphne, and she gives me a puzzled look.

“Baz? Is something wrong?”

“I wanted to say sorry. For… my reaction last night. I was quite… surprised, and perplexed. I’m sorry I was so insensitive.”

“Oh, honey it’s okay,” she says, freeing her hand from Octavia’s grip to put it over mine. 

“It upset you.”

“Yes, it did,” she admits. “But Baz, I had just learnt that I was…” She doesn’t say it in case Mordy is spying on our conversation, but the meaning of her words is obvious to both of us. “It’s a bit of an overwhelming situation.”

Yeah, I can imagine.

Not that I’ll ever live that.

I mean, of course I’m never going to get pregnant. But I’ll never be told that my wife is pregnant either. Because there won’t be a wife. And because even if there ever was one, I couldn’t get her pregnant. 

“So… you’re not angry with me?” 

Asking it makes me feel like a little child. It makes me feel like when I broke Fiona’s record player and I thought it was the end of the world and she was going to hate me forever for it. 

“No, I’m not angry with you. Your concern made sense. It’s definitely _not_ what I needed to hear at this very moment, but it made sense. I can’t blame you for speaking your mind.”

“I could have been more tactful, though,” I add, because I _could_ indeed have been more tactful. Or I could have put on a smile and told Daphne it was great and I was happy for her.

I was. Happy for her, I mean. Once I got past the “What the hell, will these people ever stop, they already have four kids” and the “Merlin and Morgana, they had to have sex to make that baby” phases, I was happy for her. 

“Baz. I told you it was okay. It really wasn’t a big deal. Don’t be so hard on yourself for this,” she says firmly, squeezing my hand.

**…**

Snow spends the day with Daphne, harassing her with questions about her pregnancy whenever Mordelia isn’t around to eavesdrop -it seems that my parents want to wait until Daphne’s pregnancy is a bit more advanced to tell Mordelia. 

The poor woman probably doesn’t know how to answer half of the questions my adorable moron of a boyfriend asks her, since she only knew she was pregnant yesterday, but she’s patient and answers him as best as she can, seeming clearly amused by his endearing excitement. 

If I’m being honest, I’m quite glad for the distraction that Daphne’s pregnancy represents at the moment. Snow is too busy marvelling at the thought of a newborn to have what happened at Trixie’s party on his mind and fuss over me. And _I_ am too busy marvelling at the sight of Simon’s joy to think about it too much. I don’t have his ability to just shut out upsetting thoughts, but he’d always been very good at distracting me. I used to curse him for that, when I couldn’t get him out of my head while he was the last thing I wanted to think about, but now, I relish it. All thoughts of Simon are _very_ welcome, especially if they keep other thoughts at bay.


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

**Baz**

We’re snogging and Snow won’t put his hands on me. Not under my shirt, and not anywhere past my waist either. 

Idiot. 

He doesn’t understand when I talk to him, does he?

When he takes his lips away from mine to catch his breath, I push him back until he’s sitting on my thighs and I prop myself up on my elbows. He gives me a confused look.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“I want to take a shower.”

He seems even more confused, his eyebrows furrowing. It’s adorable. 

“A shower?” he asks, moving so that he isn’t straddling me anymore. “We were kind of in the middle of something here, Basilton.”

I give him a small, seductive smile, as I bring my hand to his chest, trailing my index finger down until it touches the hem of his jeans. He gulps. 

“Well, yes we were, but I thought you could join me in the shower, you know?” I say innocently, while still moving my finger on his chest.

I see the exact moment his brain stops working. I have to try _very hard_ not to laugh at him. I’d say we’ve done freakier things than taking a shower together, but apparently that’s the last straw for Simon. I’ve broken him. 

“So you want to take a shower… with me?” he says slowly, looking at me with his big blue eyes completely bewildered. 

I get out of bed, holding my hand out for him to grab it. When he does, I pull him up on his feet too, my hand instinctively going to his hip to prevent him from tripping, because he’s clumsy like that.

“Yes. Have you seen how big my shower is? It’s _ideal_ to get in there together, really.”

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t know where that idea comes from but I’m not complaining. 

I’m anticipating it a bit, though. Well, I’m anticipating seeing him naked. He’s like… very hot. Very, very, _very_ hot especially when he doesn’t have clothes on, so I tend to stare, you know? But I don’t want to make him uncomfortable if I look too much. 

I’m also not sure I won’t get hard. It’s really a challenge not to get hard when his body is on full display, and on top of that he’s gonna be all wet and probably flushed because he takes his showers with the water scalding. 

But the thing is I don’t even know if Baz would be bothered if I got hard. I want to slow down on the sex stuff for a while because even if he says it’s fine, I’d rather avoid a situation that could be bad for him. He only got his memories of what happened at the party back very recently. He could probably use some time without sex, right?

My attention goes back to him when I feel his hands undoing the button of my jeans. Jesus Christ, did I get lost in my thoughts this long?

“Make yourself useful and take your shirt off, Snow. Don’t let me do all the work,” he says with that irritating, haughty voice of his. 

I glare at him, which he only answers with a smirk, but I do as he says and take my shirt off as he pulls my trousers and pants down at the same time, kneeling in front of me to help me step out of them.

When I do, I step back a little so that my crotch isn’t so close to his face. He seems unbothered, though.

I don’t understand, honestly.

Surely something like that should leave a mark on him? 

I mean, it’s great if he isn’t traumatized by it but he seems so… detached. He acts like nothing happened. 

That’s not something Baz does. Baz overthinks stuff all the time. That’s what really bugs me about his behaviour, it’s so unusual.

“Stop thinking, I can practically see the gears move inside your brain,” he says as he stands back up, dragging me inside the shower. 

He closes the glass door behind us, and then he’s turning the water on. I jump when I feel it on me, and I try to stay as far from the jet while it heats up, all while looking at Baz.

He does look great with water running down his body, Jesus Christ. His hair looks a bit funny because it’s not completely wet while not being drenched yet either, but the rest of him, holy fuck. 

Droplets of water follow the shape of his muscles in a way that should be illegal. I want to lick the water between his abs. When I force my eyes back up, they go over his nipples and I’m very tempted to let the primitive part of my brain take over and push him against the wall to take them in my mouth and roll them between my fingers and draw those pretty sounds I love so much out of him.

But I don’t.

It’s a shower. It’s not because we’re both naked that I can touch him like that. He didn’t say we were here to shag. 

He still has an insufferable smirk on his lips, I notice when my eyes eventually reach his face.

“See something you like?” he asks, stepping under the water more. As if he doesn’t know that I am indeed seeing something I like. 

He closes his eyes and throws his head back, just standing there, letting water fall on him.

The way it runs down his long pale neck is mesmerizing.

He looks ethereal. 

“Yeah,” I answer, my throat feeling a bit dry.

I _know_ that Baz is beautiful, anyone with a working pair of eyes can notice that, but sometimes it hits me just how gorgeous he is. I can’t believe he’s real. I can’t believe he’s _mine._

He offers me his hand, tilting his head to look at me, and it’s all I need to step under the water with him.

It’s almost too hot. I would ask him to turn the heat down a little, but I don’t want him to get cold. 

“You’re stunning,” I tell him when our eyes meet. 

I’m sure the pink tint on his cheeks isn’t just caused by the temperature of the water. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he answers, grabbing my hips. 

I expect him to pull me close to kiss me, but instead, he makes me turn around and leans down to kiss me where my neck meets my shoulder.

Right where I’d want him to bite me, if he was to do that.

He must catch up on what I’m thinking, because when I feel his mouth here again, it’s not just his lips. He nips at the skin and I gasp, feeling warmth pool in the lower part of my stomach. 

**…**

**Baz**

Snow is so obvious about his desire to be bitten. I still don’t quite understand why that turns him on, but I can’t pretend not to know how much he wants it, with how shameless he gets whenever I put my mouth on his neck. 

I use that knowledge to torment him a little.

I bite at the skin a bit more, and start sucking. He breathes in deeply and his fists clench as I do my best to give him a love bite, for lack of giving him a real bite. 

I’m not _completely_ opposed to the idea of biting him, now. I’ve been perfectly capable of stopping myself when I drink for a while, and I know it would please him greatly. But if I’m going to bite him, I want to build up some anticipation. Tease him.

Which is why I only bruise one side of his neck. If I don’t chicken out and decide to bite him later, I don’t want to risk biting too close to a hickey, who knows what that could do. 

By the time I move back, admiring the marks I left on him, his body is fully relaxed, his head against the cold glass wall of the shower, my arm around his waist to keep him close enough. It’s wonderful. I love seeing him like that, abandoned. 

But I did plan to go in the shower to take a shower, so after one last kiss on his shoulder, I whisper in his ear, “Will you let me wash your hair?”

It’s the best time to ask. He’s gone too soft to refuse me that, even if he hates the idea of me putting my “stupid posh products” in his hair. 

“Hm.”

I don’t think I’ll get a better answer right now, so I simply grab a bottle and pour shampoo in my hand. He throws his head back to give me access to his hair, and I start my ministration.

We’ve taken two baths together, but we didn’t wash each other during those. It’s the first time this happens. It feels strangely good, applying the shampoo to his hair, massaging his scalp and watching the foam form. He lets out appreciative sighs and soft moans when I tug his curls. 

“Feels nice,” he lets out when I make my movements slower. 

“I’m glad to hear that. Step under the water, love.”

I let him rinse his hair alone, letting my eyes wander up and down his body. He got his fill of me earlier, but I didn’t really get to look at him. 

He’s breathtaking, of course.

His constellation of moles are always what draws my attention first, but the rest of him is just as beautiful. 

He’s put on some weight since the first time I saw him naked, thank Merlin. Snow’s weight has been a concern of mine since he came back in second year and I noticed how much skinnier he looked now compared to how he looked in my memory. I’m glad to see him gaining those pounds he loses in the summer. 

He looks beautiful to me either way, but I do prefer not being able to see his ribs. 

I try not to look _past_ his ribs, for the sake of my sanity. I haven’t seen his cock in more than two weeks, I know that the part of my brain that has some common sense and restrain will leave me once I look at it.

When I move my eyes back up, I see that he’s done rinsing his hair, so I give him a smile and grab another bottle. When he sees me direct my hand full of product towards his hair, he frowns.

“What’s that?”

I cock an eyebrow. I know that Snow doesn’t exactly care about his hair, but he must at least know that conditioner exists, right?

“Conditioner,” I answer as I start applying it. “It makes your hair softer and makes it easier to comb through it. Ever heard of it?”

“Basilton, I had one bar of soap for my body _and_ my hair my whole childhood. No I didn’t hear about your fancy shit.”

Merlin.

“Well, now you’ve heard about it. I should buy you some. It’d be good for your hair.”

He groans. “I’m very fine with just shampoo.”

“But think about me, Simon. You like touching my hair, don’t you?”

He nods frantically.

“Well, if you actually _used_ conditioner your hair would be softer and I’d feel when I touch yours what you feel when you touch mine. It’s entirely selfish, really.”

“I thought you liked my hair,” he mumbles.

“I do, love. But I’m sure I’d like it even more if it wasn’t such a mess all the time.”

I’m not sure that’s true. I love his unruly curls. But they get tangled pretty easily so stroking them isn’t the most comfortable thing, for either of us. 

“Hm, whatever.”

Way to end a conversation.

**…**

**Simon**

After Baz is done doing his thing with my hair, he makes the flow of water less important, just enough to keep us wet and warm, but it’s not splashing around and making a lot of noise anymore. 

I’m wondering if that’s the part where he tosses me his shower gel and we have a quick wash, when he puts one of his arms around me.

I guess not, then.

Are we snogging in the shower? It doesn’t seem practical with all that water.

I’m about to ask but the question stays stuck in my throat when I feel Baz’s lips on my neck, close to my pulse point. I’m sure he can tell my heartbeat is quickening. 

Then I feel cold, pointy things graze against my skin and I get a little weak in the knee. 

Baz smiles. “Yes or no?” he asks, putting enough pressure with his fangs to leave a scratch. It isn’t bleeding, he didn’t go as far as making me bleed - _yet_ \- but I definitely felt his fangs. On my neck. 

It’s the first time I do and it makes me feel a little lightheaded. 

I wondered when he’d trust himself enough to consider biting me. I honestly didn’t think it’d be so soon, Baz is very good at doubting himself -which is stupid, he never fucked anything up in his entire life.

“Yes. Fucking hell, of course it’s yes,” I breathe out.

His laugh sounds so beautiful.

**…**

**Baz**

I definitely have to look into Simon’s very questionable vampire fetish. 

**…**

**Simon**

“I should be able to stop myself in time, but if you start feeling like I’m taking too much and I’m not pulling back, push me away, okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding vigorously.

I’m not sure I’ll do good on that promise, though. Baz could bloody well drain me if being bitten feels even a little bit better than having him lick my blood.

“We’re doing this in the shower so that we don’t get anything dirty, isn’t that smart?” he says, his mouth still on my neck. 

His lips and fangs brush my skin when he speaks and it’s driving me mad. I’m sure he knows he’s driving me mad. I’m sure he’s not moving his head away _because_ he knows he’s driving me mad. 

“Very smart, you’re absolutely brilliant love, your intelligence will never cease to amaze me. Can we get to the part where you put your fangs in my neck, now?”

He laughs again, the bastard. 

“So eager,” he whispers, licking the spot I wish he would bite. 

It mirrors the location of his scars, and even if I know that my bite marks probably won’t stay, it makes me feel all warm inside to think that he’ll mark _me_ where _he_ was forced to be marked. That we’ll have those two tiny bumps of skin in common. 

“Baz please,” I say, hooking my arm around his neck to make sure he keeps his face there. “Bite me.”

I feel his whole body shudder. 

At least I know that he wants this as much as I do. I mean, I guess he wants it. He said my blood tasted wonderful. But it still feels like _I’m_ the one being given a treat right now. I’m the one who kept asking for it. 

“Stop being a tease, please, I need it,” I whine. I don’t know why I want it so much, I just _do._ I feel like my whole body is on fire, and only the feel of Baz’s fangs sinking in my skin could cool me down. 

Or completely set me ablaze. 

His fangs become more present, but they’re still not breaking the skin. I feel a sob rise in my throat.

I’ve never wanted anything so fucking much. I could bloody cry from how much I want it. I’ve been waiting for _weeks_.

Is that how _he_ feels when we have sex and I won’t, quote unquote, get on with it and fuck him? Because if that’s how he feels maybe I’ll stop teasing him. It’s bloody awful. 

“I need you…” I whisper, my voice wet and trembling. 

He finally gives it to me.

At first it hurts.

And then it’s a supernova.

**…**

**Baz**

When my fangs pierce his skin, Snow tenses against me, and I want to pull back, but then his blood hits my tongue and I can’t think. 

His knees buckle and I hold him tighter, holding him up against the wall of the shower as his blood flows between my lips.

It’s so much better than just liking a wound. It’s… I’m _inside_ him. I can feel his blood pulse against my fangs and it’s making my head spin. 

The memory of what feeding off of him was like was enough to make me crave it, but it’s a pale comparison to the real thing. It’s like an explosion in my mouth. My eyes roll back and I sink my fangs deeper. 

Distantly, I hear him moan and gasp and cry out things that sounds like “Baz” and “Oh God”

I swallow more and more hungrily. I can’t get enough of the taste of him on my tongue.

I’m showing him the darkest, most shameful part of my being, and he’s giving me his life source willingly.

I’m filling him, and he’s filling me. 

We complete each other. 

When I feel him go limp in my arms, I know it’s time to pull back.

I don’t want to.

I don’t want this incredible feeling to end.

I want to be drunk on Simon Snow for the rest of my existence, as long as it may be.

But I can’t hurt him, so I gather up all of my self control, and take my fangs out of his neck. Blood is still flowing, so I lick the wound until it stops, eagerly getting the last drops, before I really move back. 

My brain has melted in my head, and all I can feel is _want_. Desire growing inside me, replacing the thirst, like it always does after I’ve drunk his blood. It doesn’t help that I can feel his hard cock pressed against my stomach, tempting me.

I don’t know if I want it more in my arse or in my mouth. 

Before I can decide, Simon lets out a choked sound, like a sob, and my eyes fly up to his face.

He’s utterly, beautifully wrecked. 

His pupils are blown and his eyes shiny, tears are rolling down his flushed cheeks, and his lips are swollen from being bitten. He’s breathing heavily, even gasping, and he looks so completely lost in pleasure. 

He’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. 

I lean closer to him again, until I can kiss his neck, right where I just bit him. He whimpers. Then my lips go up to his ear.

“I want you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst, fluff, and then smut, it’s just the natural progression of things, people


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m supposed to be in the living room for christmas dinner in half an hour and i’m still in pyjamas in my room because i was too busy writing gay shit

**Baz**

I feel him tremble against me. 

“Baz... no.”

I move back immediately. When his body loses the support mine gave him, I see him struggle to stay up on his legs.

No?

My stomach drops. Why would he say no? 

Merlin, was the bite too much for him? Did I mistake the look on his face for something else? Is he crying because he’s in pain? Did he dislike it?

I feel tears burning my own eyes, but then he’s reaching out and putting a hand on my arm. “No, Baz, I mean… I want you,” he says, his breathing laboured. “But we.. you… I don’t want us to have sex when you’ve just drank my blood. You know it fucks with both of our brains. I… I want you to be sure it’s something you want.”

It looks like it’s taking him a lot of effort to say all of this. It probably is. I just bit him, if I’m still drunk on his blood, he must still be drunk on the feeling too. 

“I’m sure,” I tell him as I step closer again, a firm hold on his hip, both because I want to touch him and to keep him up.

He shakes his head. 

“We’re not doing anything tonight. I… If tomorrow morning when your mind is clear you still want me, then we’ll see. Let’s just take a shower, now, okay baby?” he leans down to kiss me before I can answer.

I want to protest, our minds not being clear never stopped him before, he fucked me while my mouth still tasted of his blood the first time I drank from him, but then he’s jutting his chin in that way that feels _so good_ and I don’t want to complain anymore.

If Snow wants to wait for tomorrow, I’ll wait. But if he doesn’t fuck me tomorrow I might explode. I want to feel him inside me. _Need_ to feel him inside me.

He makes me feel so cherished when we make love. Under his hands, I feel like my skin is the softest thing he’s ever touched, like I’m worth taking care of. Under his gaze, I feel like I’m made of diamond, precious and valued, but not _breakable_ , not _weak._ When we make love, kisses his way down my body with adoration, like every little inch of me deserves worshipping. He kisses me when my fangs are out like they’re not even there, like they don’t matter, like they don’t change how much he wants me, how much he loves me.

All the bad things I think about myself disappear when Simon Snow buries his face in the crook of my neck, gasping and moaning my name as he takes his pleasure in me.

No. He doesn’t _take_. He gives. It’s all he ever does. Gives, and gives and gives.

I feel his arms wrap around me, pulling me into a hug and kissing my shoulder. It’s not anything like the tight hugs he gives me when we reunite after not seeing each other for a moment. It’s something soft and loving. Safe. 

He gives me so much more than I deserve

**…**

**Simon**

I let myself hug Baz. 

We’re both naked, and still hard, and my brain is still foggy with lust, but it still doesn’t feel sexual. I’m just hugging him. 

It’s warm, and not just because of the hot water still running down our bodies. 

He rests his chin on top of my head in a way that used to annoy me -those inches he has on me are the bane of my existence- but now I find it quite lovely. It’s tender. Baz loves being tender more than I thought he would. He’s a really soft bloke, deep down, under the smirks and snarky comments. 

I feel like we’ve been hugging forever, but when I pull back, it’s like I only put my arms around him a second again. I just want to hold him close again. 

But I’m knackered -losing a significant amount of blood is quite tiring- and I could always cuddle him under the warmth of the covers. 

I reach for his shower gel and that sponge thing he uses to wash himself and pour a good amount on it. Then, I look at him, showing the sponge. “May I?”

He just nods and closes his eyes expectantly.

I step closer, turning the water off with my free hand, and then I start rubbing the shower gel on his chest slowly. I want to make him feel good and relaxed like he made me feel when he washed my hair. Merlin knows he’s _tense_ right now. 

I would ask Penny what she thinks of the fact that a vampire feeding off of someone causes both people to be aroused but I don’t want to have to explain how I found that out. She already doesn’t want to hear about my sex life with Baz, but I think she would literally murder me if I let it be known that I let him bite me after annoying her with his vampirism and how dangerous it made him for years. 

I wash his arms next, and I kind of wish I wasn’t using the sponge so that I could feel his muscles. He’s not ripped, Baz is a lean bloke and football has muscled him more in the legs -his thighs, holy shit- but he still has some nice muscles on his arms, and of course, there are his bloody abs. 

I’m moving the sponge over those now, and Baz is letting out the prettiest sighs. It always makes him go all soft when I rub his stomach. I won’t say it out loud because he’d probably kick me but he’s kind of like a cat or a dog in that way.

Once I’m done with his torso, I get down on my knees to wash his legs, doing my best not to look _between_ his legs. He isn’t as hard as he was right after biting me, but he hasn’t gone soft either. 

I want him so much.

Focus, Simon.

I swallow, and keep my eyes fixed on the skin I’m applying the shower gel to. 

On my way back up his legs, I avoid his arse, and go straight to his back before moving to face him again. If he wasn’t standing up, I’d think he was asleep. His eyes are still close, and he’s barely breathing.

That’s something Baz does. He doesn’t _need_ to breathe as much as a normal person does, he does it out of habit, and because to blend it with people who are not vampires, he has to breathe regularly, but he can go several minutes without taking a breath without problems. It’s when he doesn’t breathe for a very long time that it gets messy. He told me he tried to see how long he could last without inhaling air, and found out that after a quarter of an hour, his lungs burn like crazy. I think it’s wicked, all of the stuff that’s different about his body because he’s a vampire. It’s a pity vampires aren’t studied seriously.

I turn the water back on, and watch it run down Baz’s chest, washing away the soap. I’m not going to lie, it’s kind of hot. 

He doesn’t even move, just stands under the water, letting it clean him. And he wanted to have sex. Bullshit, he’s exhausted too. 

He’s been more tired in the last few days than he ever was before, and I don’t know if it’s all of his lack of sleep catching up to him or if it’s because of the memory spell -he’s given me a short lecture on memory spells the other day, and he said that spells that have to do with the mind are very trying for both the caster and the person it’s cast on, and that having one of those spells broken is even more draining- , but he’s been sleeping a lot. 

I make quick work of washing myself, there’s no point dragging it on, Baz isn’t even watching me and I’m not trying to seduce him anyway, and then we’re stepping out of the shower, Baz holding my hand. Steam spreads in the room when I open the glass door. Damn, that shower really was hot. 

I let go of Baz’s hand to go get those huge, soft towels of his -they have his initials embroidered in the corner, rich people are such a bloody cliché- to wrap around him and myself. I know he’ll probably spell himself dry, it’s more practical before bed, but it still makes me uncomfortable to feel magic around me, and even more to have spells cast on me, so I start rubbing the towel over my body to dry myself as quickly as I can. 

Unsurprisingly, I see Baz bend down to take his wand from the floor.

“Want help?” he asks, his voice heavy, waving his wand at me. 

“Nope,” I answer as I go get another towel for my hair. If it was just me I’d have used the same one, it’s what I’ve always done -I didn’t exactly have the luxury of having two clean towels at the same time in the care homes- but Baz says it’s not sanitary and blah blah blah, so I just do that now. 

‘ _You’re not the one doing the laundry, why do you care’_

Spoiled prick. 

He gives me a smile when I come back from my attempt at drying my hair. It’s still quite wet, which won’t be the most comfortable thing to sleep but the thought of Baz using his magic on me… Yeah, I’d rather sleep with wet hair.

“Have you got pyjamas here or do you need one of mine?” he asks, intertwining our fingers.

I like that. Holding hands, I mean. I like that a lot. 

“I need one of yours.”

I haven’t technically started living in Baz’s room again. I’m here for the moment because he’s home and my brain has decided to stop being ridiculous and finally let me spend time with Baz, but all my stuff is still in my room. 

He nods. 

“Let’s get you something, then,” he says with a yawn.

I smile before I press a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, and then let’s sleep.”

**…**

I hear him cast a **Sweet dreams** on himself when we get in bed -and _feel_ it, unfortunately, his magic is heavier in the air than Daphne’s or Dev’s or Niall’s, probably because of how powerful he is.

It makes my heart clench. Has he been using a spell every night? I don’t know much about magic but I know that those spells can be addictive and that if you use them too often, you might not be able to have a peaceful sleep without them again.

I know nightmares are hard, I get them an awful lot too, but I just hope Baz is being careful.

**…**

**Baz**

I’ve been using **Sweet dreams** almost every night since I’ve been back home, which, technically isn’t a long time, but it has already started to have an effect on the spell. 

It allowed me to sleep for a few hours without trouble, but I still woke up earlier than I usually would with unpleasant images in my mind and a bitter taste in my mouth. 

Carefully, not to wake him up, I move Snow off of me to be able to get out of bed. He grunts at the loss, but he doesn’t open his eyes. 

I would take a few seconds to look at him, but I need to brush this awful taste off my mouth. I could admire Simon when I won’t feel so gross. 

**…**

I’m starting to run out of toothpaste. It was not new by any means when I came home, but the level of toothpaste on the tube has significantly decreased over the past few days. It’s lucky Simon has never been good at observing things, I wouldn’t want him to wonder why the toothpaste is running empty so quickly. He doesn’t need to know. I’m sure that it’ll be fixed soon anyway. I’m sure that if I taste _him,_ I’ll stop tasting _Roman._

All I can taste when I walk out of the bathroom is mint and something metallic.

**…**

**Simon**

I wake up to the feeling of hot, open mouth kisses being pressed on my stomach.

Holy fuck. 

When I open my eyes, still half asleep, I see Baz nestled between my legs, pushing my shirt up with one hand and rubbing over my hip bone absentmindedly with his thumb. 

I notice that there’s enough light in the room for me to see, but not enough to blind me. He must have been careful of this when he opened the blinds. It makes me smile to think about it. 

“Baz…?” I ask, to signal him that I’m up.

“Good morning, love,” he tells me, looking up at me with a smirk.

His chin dips on my stomach. 

“What’re you doin’?”

He gives me another kiss. “Waking you up.”

“With kisses?”

“It’s better than if I screamed in your ear, isn’t it?

I laugh softly. “It is better.”

It’s not the first time one of us wakes up like that, but usually, it’s Baz. I kiss his face until he opens his eyes, when I don’t feel like waiting for him to come awake on his own. 

He crawls up my body to kiss me. I’m expecting to feel his morning breath on my lips, but all I can smell is mint. He brushed his teeth already?

Well, he’ll be the only one who has to deal with morning breath then. He doesn’t seem to mind, he’s already slipping his tongue inside my mouth.

Oh, so this is more than a good morning kiss. Okay. Yeah. Fine. 

His fingers going up the uncover parts of my sides, feather light, confirm that this is definitely more than a good morning kiss. He’s getting me in the mood. 

Jesus Christ.

I know I told him I’d think of having sex tomorrow if he still wanted to when he wasn’t all confused because of my blood, but I didn’t think he’d try to get in my pants right after I woke up.

We’ve never had morning sex, but I can’t say I’m opposed to the idea. I’m still not sure it’s the right thing to do, though. For Baz, I mean. 

But he seems determined. He’s rocking his hips against me, now, slowly, but it’s enough to get my prick interested. 

My breathing catches when he kisses my neck, right where he bit me last night, and my hand instinctively slides in his hair, holding it without gripping it. 

He smiles, and trails kisses up to my ear. 

“It’s the morning, and I still want you,” he whispers. “Do you want me?”

What a fucking stupid question.

“Fuck, yes I do.”

My voice is so deep. I’ll blame it on the fact that I just woke up and not on arousal because that’s less embarrassing. Baz is not even grinding against me, just moving, it shouldn’t make me so fucking horny.

 _He_ must be blaming it on arousal because he lets out a short, satisfied laugh when he hears me. Bastard.

**…**

**Baz**

I give Simon another kiss. I’m starting to feel him on my tongue, and it’s simply amazing. But I want to really taste _him._ His saliva doesn’t taste like _Simon_ as much as his come does. And the taste fades so quickly after I get my tongue out of his mouth.

I keep snogging and caressing him until he’s fully hard, his erection pressing against my stomach when I grind down. It makes him moan in my mouth, which is arguably the hottest thing ever. There’s nothing quite like _feeling_ Simon Snow’s pleased whimpers vibrating on top of _hearing_ them. 

And then I kiss my way down his body. I push his shirt up more to be able to take one of his nipple between my teeth, making him whine. He doesn’t like having his nipples fondled as much as I do, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it _at all_.

I tease his other nipple by rolling it between my fingers until they’re both flushed and hard. Magnificent.

The little bit of spit I can see shining on his nipple when I keep moving down nearly drives me mad.

Snow is just sounds now, his body completely relaxed, eyes closed. It’s beautiful. I love seeing him come undone under my touch.

It’s usually the opposite. Snow likes being in charge. But he likes being taken care of too, sometimes. 

My lips reach the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and my mouth waters. He’s not wearing pants under those, and they're so thin.

His cock is _so close._

I want it so much.

I hook my fingers under the waistband to pull his trousers down, and finally put my eyes -and my _mouth_ , Merlin- on his gorgeous cock, but he puts a hand over my hand and squirms. “Baz, no.”

I freeze.

**…**

**Simon**

I can’t believe him. Of all the things we could do, he tried to… to suck me off?

I was already not convinced having sex was good for him, but _giving me a goddamn blowjob_ can’t be good for him, right? Is he trying to prove something to himself? That’s the kind of bullshit Baz would do.

**…**

**Baz**

“Don’t you want to?”

Don’t you want _me._

“No, I don’t,” he answers, pushing himself up to sit down, as best as he can with me between his legs.

The words feel like a stab in the heart.

I knew it.

I knew he wouldn’t want me to suck him off.

He must be thinking about the fact that I sucked Roman off.

He must be so _disgusted_. 

_Offended_ that I’d try to do that to him after doing it to someone else.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz moves back like I’ve burnt him.

Shit.

“Baz…” I try, but he’s already getting out of bed.

Fuck this isn’t what I intended _at all._

“Baz, love…”

“No, it’s okay, I understand.”

**…**

**Baz**

It’s true, why would he want that. What the fuck did I have in mind.

My mouth is so _dirty._ Of course he doesn’t want his dick in it.

**…**

**Simon**

I’ve barely stepped out of the bed when I hear the bathroom door being locked from inside.

**…**

**Baz**

Dirty.

So fucking dirty.

The toothpaste is empty and I’m still so _dirty._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you didn’t think i’d let them have sex without throwing some angst in there, did you? ;)


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they t a l k  
> and then they have sex because come on, they deserve it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to skip the smut, stop reading after Simon’s (short) POV that ends with “I don’t mind in the slightest.”
> 
> !!TRIGGER WARNING!!  
> blood, mention of self harm

**Simon**

I want to give him time not to smother him, but it’s been fifteen minutes and he’s still locked in there. I’m starting to worry. I have no idea what’s going through his mind, but knowing Baz, it can’t be good. 

Besides, some conversations can’t be had with a hard on. I had to relax before I tried to talk to him.

The key word here being _tried_.

He locked himself in, and I don’t have magic to open doors for me anymore. 

“Baz, baby, please let me in.”

No answer, of course.

The one remotely positive thing about this situation is that he didn’t think of picking his wand up from the bedside table when he left, so he can’t shut me out with his magic. The only barrier between us is a locked door, and I _can_ pick the lock, if it comes to this. 

There are some perks to growing up in care homes. 

“Baz. Whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry about it. Can you explain what happened?”

“Leave me alone, Snow.”

I hate when he calls me that.

“Baz, please. I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to upset you. I was spooked when I understood you wanted to… when I understood what you wanted to do. I just don’t get why you would want that.”

He doesn’t answer.

I’m about to try to say something else when I hear him turn the key in the lock. Thank God, he’s letting me in. 

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t want to talk about it with Snow. I really don’t. But when _he_ doesn’t talk to me about the things that are tormenting him, it nearly drives me mad.

I have to try to make him understand. Understand how I feel, and understand why _‘I would want that_ ’.

It probably won’t make sense to him. I can already hear his rant about how I’m beautiful and perfect and not any of the things I think of myself. But I at least need to try. 

Even if he doesn’t understand it all, maybe he’ll understand enough to let me touch him. And to touch me. I _need_ that, I know that I do. 

**…**

**Simon**

The first thing I notice is that his eyes are red. 

Merlin, I made him cry. That definitely _wasn’t_ my intention. Fuck, I hate this.

“Baz…” I whisper as I reach out to stroke his cheek, my thumb wiping the single tear that’s rolling down it away.

“Just come in,” he says dismissively, waving my hand away and turning his back on me. 

I follow him inside, guilt building up in my stomach. I really fucked up, didn’t I?

I wish I’d stop fucking up with Baz. I wish every single attempt I made at trying to be a good boyfriend wasn’t a gigantic failure.

I close the door behind me. It’s useless, the door gives to his room not the corridor, but I feel like it gives us privacy and that’s what this conversation requires. His sisters barge in his room less since Mordelia traumatized herself when she caught us snogging -it was very decent snogging, thankfully, we still had our clothes on and I hadn’t shoved my hands in Baz’s pants yet- but the closed door is still one more barrier between us and his family.

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t know what to say.

I _know_ what I should say but I don’t know how to say it. How to find the right words. How to get those words out. So we’re just standing there, in the middle of the bathroom, a distance more than just physical between us. 

I can tell that Simon is starting to get uncomfortable because he starts looking around, and then…

Then his eyes fall on something and he gasps.

Fuck.

How could I forget to rinse the fucking sink.

**…**

**Simon**

I thought it was ridiculously fancy of Baz’s family to have sinks made of glass in their bathroom since I arrived. Now I’m grateful for them. I would have missed that if the sink wasn’t see through, and that’s _not_ something I should miss. 

Blood. 

Blood in the sink, along with spit, and his toothbrush abandoned next to it, with some blood on it too.

What the fuck. 

I turn my eyes back to Baz. He has this cold, emotionless look on his face. 

No, no, no. Don’t shut me out.

“Babe, what’s that?” I ask him, pointing at the sink, even though I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m talking about. 

“Nothing. I just brushed my teeth.”

I scoff. _Just brushed my teeth._

“You had already brushed your teeth when you woke me up, and I’m pretty sure that you’re not supposed to _bleed_ when you brush your teeth.”

“I have sensitive gums.”

I can’t believe that motherfucker.

“You’re so full of shit. What… _Why,_ Baz?”

I remember what he told me about when… when he self harmed. How he did it to see the blood. I hope that whatever _this_ is isn’t some twisted way to get that feeling again, but by brushing the shit out of his teeth. 

His fists are clenched, his whole body tense. 

“Baz,” I try again, making my voice softer. If he’s hurting himself, I don’t want him to think I’m mad at him for it. It’s not his fault he’s suffering. I’m not angry, I’m worried. “What is it?”

His head bent down, he answers something, but it’s too faint for me to hear. 

I step closer.

“I didn’t hear you, love.”

**…**

**Baz**

He’s going to think I’m ridiculous.

He won’t understand and he’ll get mad at me. 

He’ll say it’s stupid and I should get over it.

 _He_ went through something so much worse and he isn’t doing bullshit like me. You don’t see Snow hurting himself. You don’t see Snow getting all paranoid. You don’t see Snow using spells to be able to sleep.

“I’m dirty. Sometimes I can still feel him in the back of my throat and I _need_ to brush him off my teeth. To clean my mouth until I don’t feel so fucking disgusting anymore.” 

I let it all out, head down, my eyes shut close tightly. I’m not sure I want to see his reaction. See the pity in his eyes.

**…**

**Simon**

I should have punched that motherfucker more. I should have beaten him fucking unconscious.

I try to control myself not to let my anger show. I can’t have Baz believe it’s directed towards him. 

I take a deep breath as I reach out to take his chin between my thumb and index finger in order to tilt his head up. 

“Can you look at me, Baz?”

He shakes his head, his eyes still closed. 

He’s biting his bottom lip. It’s trembling.

I cup his face, holding his face in a way that I hope is tender. “You’re not dirty,” I say with as much confidence as I can. 

“Yes I am. You think so too. You wouldn’t let me suck you off because you know my mouth is disgusting,” he answers, his voice unsteady.

Aleister Crowley. I really don’t understand how his brain works. That’s _definitely not_ what I thought I was making him think when I pushed him away.

I hold his face tighter, leaning in to press our foreheads together. Our breaths melt together. His smells strongly of mint and metal.

“First of all,” I say, before I close the distance between us to capture his lips. I run my tongue along his teeth, waiting for him to open them so that I can kiss him more deeply. Slowly, just like he prefers. When I pull back, his eyes are still close. It’s okay. I’ll get him to look at me. “I don’t think you’re dirty. And I don’t think your mouth is disgusting. You’re the furthest thing from dirty and disgusting. I can tell you every day, if you want, if it can make you believe it, because I know that there won’t a day when it will be a lie. You won’t ever be dirty or disgusting, Baz.”

I kiss him again, just a peck on the lips this time, those pouty lips he’s keeping tightly shut. 

“The only reason I didn’t want you to blow me,” I continue, stroking his cheeks with my thumbs. “is because I thought it might not be good for you to do this particular thing. It’s not because I think you’re dirty, it’s because I didn’t want you to… relive what happened. I’m sorry I made you feel that way, Baz, it really wasn’t my intention. At all.”

A tear rolls down his cheek. I know he tried hard to hold it back, his face was all scrunched up as I talked. I wish he didn’t hold back. He doesn’t need to. I don’t care if he cries. But I know that it can be hard for him to be vulnerable sometimes, and he must already feel so vulnerable telling me all of this. 

“So you truly aren’t disgusted by me?” he asks with that sweet, a bit childish tone that makes my heart clench.

“No. I never could be.”

“And you still want to have sex with me?”

“Merlin, you have no idea how much,” I say with a soft laugh. 

I know he probably needs the reassurance but that’s such a stupid question. I haven’t stopped fantasizing about him since he first let me make love to him. I was already fantasizing about him _before_ he let me make love to him.

I think he’s done with his questions, but he asks another one, which brings tears to my own eyes.

“And… And you still want to _be_ with me?”

**…**

**Baz**

I’m giving him a way out.

It would fucking destroy me if he broke up, but he deserves so much better than a fuck up like me. 

If he still wants the sex, I can give him that without burdening him with being in a _relationship_ with me. He doesn’t have to be my boyfriend to fuck me.

He could have the good things without the bad ones.

**…**

**Simon**

“Of course I do. I want nothing more than to be with you. I feel so blessed to have you, Baz. You’re so wonderful. You’re smart, and elegant and so well-spoken. I feel mesmerized whenever you open that mouth of yours and let out all those pretty words with your stupid posh accent. You’re gracious, and strong and so fucking ruthless. You always took my breath away when you played football, you know that? I came to all your matches, came to a lot of your practices too, and not just to keep an eye on you. I came because you were so bloody impressive on the pitch. Fuck, I’ve been completely under your spell for so long, I feel like such an idiot for not realizing it sooner. I wasted so many years calling you names, when I could have called you mine.”

**…**

**Baz**

If it hadn’t happened so spontaneously, I’d think he rehearsed his little speech. Snow isn’t much of a romantic, I’m the one who waxes poetic about him. 

**…**

**Simon**

“You still call me names,” he interrupts me, tears in his voice.

He’s starting to feel overwhelmed, I think. I don’t usually make him grand declarations like that. Words aren’t my thing. I’d rather show him than tell him, but today he needs to hear that I love him. He _deserves_ to hear it. 

“Yeah, because you’re still a fucking prick. But I don’t mean them the way I used to. I don’t hate you the way I used to. I’m so mad at myself for ever hating you. I wish I could go back in time and start over. I’d have become friends with you. I’d have hung out with Dev, Niall, and you, and Penny would have tagged along. I’d have never dated Agatha because I was too obsessed with you. I’d have fallen in love with you, and you’d have fallen in love with me, and we’d have started dating much sooner. We wouldn’t have lost so many years fighting. We’d have had each other, and we’d have been happier.” We’re both crying now. Baz must have dreamt of such a scenario many times, during all these years at Watford, when he loved me and thought I’d always hate him. “But I’m not so mad that things went the way they did, because in the end, I’ve still got you. Right where I want you,” I whisper as I finally pull him into a hug.

**…**

There are more tears, and more sloppy kisses, and I tell him that I love him some more, until eventually, we tumble in bed. I don’t even know how we got there, but I’m on my back with Baz on top of me, snogging me as eagerly as he drank my blood yesterday. 

I let my hands wander on his body, warming up his cold back. I made him feel awful by refusing his touch, so I’m not going to hold back anymore. I trust him to tell me if it gets too much. 

“Will you let me suck you off this time? I really want to.”

I have a second of hesitation. He must see the doubt in my eyes, because before I can say anything, he continues. “I want to, Simon. And I _need_ to. I like having sex with you. I like _blowing_ you and I don’t want Roman to have ruined sex for me, but I feel like the longer we wait before fucking again the harder it’s going to be.”

That makes sense, actually. And he looks so sure of himself when he says it, his moon grey eyes full of fire.

Pitch. House of Fire. He’s always full of fire.

“Okay, but you don’t have to, alright?” I say, pushing myself up on my elbows and looking at him seriously. “If… If you don’t feel fine while doing it, just stop. I don’t care if I’m about to come and I’m begging you not to stop, if you feel any discomfort I don’t want you to continue. I’m telling you that while my head is still clear enough,” I add with a breathy laugh, to release some of the tension. We’re not supposed to be so tense and serious in bed. It’s supposed to be easy and playful. But just like when we try something new, we have to be careful now. 

“I’ll stop if I want to, I promise,” he answers, nodding.

He doesn’t even make fun of me. Usually, he rolls his eyes at me or mock me a little when I give him my speeches about safe words and feeling comfortable during sex, because he says nothing could be bad for him as long as it feels good for me, but today, I think he needs to hear it as much as I need to say it.

He’s been forced to do this. I refuse to see him even _feel_ forced ever again. 

Satisfied with his answer, I hook my arm around his neck and raise my head until my lips are close to his ear. “Then yes, love, you can suck me off,” I say in a low voice that makes him shudder.

**…**

**Baz**

Fucking finally.

**…**

**Simon**

I expect him to act quickly, to trail a line of hot kisses down my stomach and pull my trousers down in a hurry and swallow me down, but instead, he starts pressing feather light kisses along my jaw. 

I don’t mind in the slightest.

**…**

**Baz**

His body dips in the mattress, and I feel him relax under my touch as I slip my hands under his shirt. He doesn’t even react to how cold they are.

He says he likes how cold my skin is. 

“Help me take this off?” I whisper against his neck as I push his shirt up. 

He nods, lifting his body just enough for me to pull his shirt off. 

I want to pay his chest a lot of attention, running my hands on his bare skin, kissing him, but he’s finally letting me put my mouth on his cock and I’m not sure I want to wait much, so I make my way down his torso rather quickly, drinking in his pleased sighs. I can’t wait for them to turn into soft moans, and then, into incoherent babbling.

Simon isn’t the kind to scream. _I’m_ the one who’s loud, at my biggest embarrassment. In Snow’s case, when the pleasure gets really intense, he starts speaking nonsense mostly of my name and swear words. It’s very hot. Especially since he says my name like it’s one of the swear words. 

When I hook my fingers under his waistband, I almost expect him to refuse again, but when I look up to him for permission, I drown in his blue eyes, burning with desire. 

He nods vigorously, bringing a smile to my lips. He wants this. He wants _me_. 

I decide to tease him a bit. Really get him in the mood. He’s hard already, but he could be more. And I wouldn’t mind hearing him beg me to blow him. 

I nip at the skin just over his waistband, making him gasp. Snow and his weird vampire fetish striking again.

There’s a vein in his thigh that pulses particularly hard. Maybe someday I could bite him here. 

I keep biting lightly, the lower part of his stomach but also his thighs, leaving a love bite on one of them. Seeing hickeys on his neck fills me with some strange sense of pride, because they’re here for everyone to see that he’s _mine_ -even though we conceal them for the obvious reason that the only people who are currently here to see his love bites are my _parents-_ but those on his thighs… they could make me swoon. They’re here just for me. A reminder that _I’m_ the one who’s lucky enough to have my head between Simon Snow’s thighs. 

If he’s starting to get impatient, he isn’t saying anything. Probably not to make me feel pressured to get on with it. Caring moron.

I nuzzle his crotch and he gasp.

“Fucking hell, Baz.”

I grin. “Yes, love?” I ask as I kiss him over his trousers - _my_ trousers.

There’s a darker spot on them and it nearly makes me go mad to see it. Simon Snow is wearing my pyjama bottoms and he’s staining them with precum because he wants me _that_ much.

He groans this time. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Well it’s not what I was expecting him to say, but I’m not mad at it.

“Am I?” I ask before kissing him again.

“Yes,” he says, his voice deep and warm. 

I feel myself getting harder. 

“Would you like me to pull your trousers down?” 

I run one finger along his shaft as I say it, which gets a strangled sound out of him.

His hips rock instinctively. “Please.”

I’m happy to oblige.

I free his cock from the soft material of his trousers, and take a few seconds to watch it -much like everything else about Simon Snow, his cock is beautiful- before I lean down to kiss a mole he has on it. He whimpers.

“Simon,” I call for him to look at me.

When he does, I swallow him down.

**…**

**Simon**

Holy fuck, he’s so good at this. I had forgotten how good he was at this. God dammit. That fucking mouth. 

**…**

**Baz**

It feels so fucking good.

Simon Snow is completely at my mercy, the most sensitive part of his body in my mouth, the pleasure he feels mine to decide.

And do I give him pleasure.

I move my tongue the way he likes, stroking the part of his cock I can’t take in my mouth -technically I _can_ , but I don’t want to feel him in my throat, not yet- while fondling his bollocks with my other hand. I’m looking at him as I do all of that, watching his flushed cheeks, the way his hands grip the sheets, the blissful look on his face. 

I feel so powerful like this. Because I’m the one making him look like this.

Because I’m in _control_. 

**…**

**Simon**

I feel like my whole body is on fire. Like _he_ is setting me on fire. It feels so good, I can’t think, I can only _feel._ Feel his hot, wet tongue around me, and his devilish tongue that makes me see stars, and his hands that might ruin me, and…

And then he takes me deep in his throat and it feels like catching fire.

**…**

**Baz**

“Bazbazbazbazfuckbabyimgonnacomebazohmygod.”

He’s a beautiful wreck.

I hollow my cheeks one last time, not taking him deep but sucking him _hard_ , and he comes in my mouth, his eyes rolling back and his thighs shaking around me. 

It’s wonderful.

He tastes so good.

He tastes like Simon.

It’s familiar, and it doesn’t feel dirty.

**…**

**Simon**

I’m still spasming with the aftershocks of my orgasm when Baz crawls up my body, crashing his lips against mine.

I can taste myself on his tongue when it meets mine.

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t give Snow time to think. I’m painfully hard, have been for a long time, but I refused to rut against the bed. I want to come with his cock buried deep in my arse, after getting hard with his cock buried deep in my throat. 

“I need you to fuck me,” I breathe out when I pull back, grabbing my wand. “Let me cast a spell on you, please.”

I can’t wait for him to get hard naturally. I need it now. I feel like I’m a bomb and the faintest touch might make me explode. 

“Yeah, okay,” he answers, looking at me with his eyes full of lust.

He doesn’t even make a comment about how ridiculous it is that spells for sex exist, he’s so far gone. 

I don’t bother with prep either. I don’t care about a little pain now. I just use a spell to lube myself and him up, and then I’m making him sit up, far enough from the headboard for my knees not to knock it when I sink down on him.

We both moan.

His hands fall on my hips, helping me rock them. As rushed as I was acting up until now, I want to take my time fucking myself on him.

We’re rarely in a position like that, it’s always me lying down and him fucking me, and even the few times I rode him, it wasn’t like that. He was flat on his back against the mattress, not sitting down. In this position, it feels like a hug. Our chests are pressed together, my hands cupping his face as I kiss him with my mouth open and too much teeth, our moans getting lost in between our lips.

It’s hot. It’s messy. It’s tender.

It’s _love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> random but with this chapter i hit 300k words on the whole series so i’m quite proud about that ^^  
> and to think that when i started A Study in Trust i thought it’d be around 30k long...


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s texting in this chapter ; Baz is in italics and Dev is bold and underlined

**Baz**

Simon presses a kiss under my neck, on the dip between my clavicles. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?” 

It’s a stupid question that he asks almost all the time after sex. He always gets the same answer. I don’t know what he would do if I ever gave him another answer.

“Yes, love.”

“But really Baz, was it good? Did it…” he stops, and lets out a breathy laugh. “Christ that sounds so wrong, but did it help?”

Beautiful nightmare.

“Yes, it did.”

I won’t admit it to him, but I was a bit freaked out about giving him a blowjob. I wanted it, _of course_ I wanted it. I _always_ want to be having sex with Simon Snow. But I was afraid my brain would do what it usually does : ruin every nice thing I have. But it didn’t. It let me enjoy it, as much as I always do. 

More, even, maybe, because it was the first time I did it since… since the party. Because we both wanted it, and he loved it, and he didn’t think I was gross. Because it proved to me that Roman hadn’t taken that away from me, that I could still blow my boyfriend and enjoy myself doing it. 

“I’m glad then,” Simon says, kissing me another time, before making his hold on my hips a bit tighter. “Let’s go to bed?”

I don’t want to move. I’m seated on Simon Snow, his cock still filling me up even if it has gone soft, and it’s possibly the best feeling ever. If I do move, I’ll feel his come drip down my arsehole and on my thighs, which is arguably the _worst_ feeling in the world. So really, there’s one option that’s clearly superior to the other here.

But it’s the morning -already rather late in the morning, we’ve been busy-, and not even the prospect of cuddling with me after sex could make Simon want to skip breakfast, so I do get off of him, wincing as I do.

Having sex without prep wasn’t my best idea, even if it was very gentle fucking. _Lovemaking_ , Snow would say.

I don’t hate the world nearly as much as I pretend I do. I just have a reputation, you know? It has already crumbled to pieces, yes, I know, but I’m clinging to the tatters of it I still have and that includes not saying _making love_ all the time to talk about fucking like Simon does.

That boy bends me over my desk and pounds into my arse until I can’t walk straight and then calls it making love. And _I’m_ apparently the ridiculously romantic one in this relationship.

“I have to wash my teeth before we go down to breakfast, I tell him as I grab my pyjama bottoms where they were discarded on the bed. 

He frowns. “Don’t you think you’ve done that enough? There was _blood_ in the sink, Baz.”

I should have rinsed that fucking sink.

“I just had your dick in my mouth. I don’t want my breath to smell of your come.”

He grins. “I wouldn’t mind.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I know you wouldn’t, you barbarian. But I happen to have sisters who like being kissed good morning and I’d rather they smell mint when I kiss them.”

“Um, yeah, good point,” he says, scratching his chin. Then, in a heartbeat, he’s out of the bed, pulling his own trousers up his beautiful legs. He’s got so many moles on them. And he has my love bite on his thigh. “Let me come with you then, I’ll brush my teeth too.”

I cock an eyebrow. I _know_ why he wants to come with me, it’s not like he has any subtlety. 

“You’re going to have breakfast,” I tell him. “That’s stupid.”

“Shut up, Basilton.”

“A compelling argument.”

**…**

**Simon**

It’s compelling enough that we’re both standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom of my room -Baz ran out of toothpaste, so we had to use my tube- brushing our teeth together. 

“We’re a complete cliché,” Baz says as he wets his toothbrush. “Straight out of a cheesy rom com.”

He applies toothpaste on it, and then shoves the toothbrush inside his mouth. My own mouth is already full of foam, so I spit some of it out before looking at Baz in the mirror. 

“First of all, there’s nothing straight about you brushing the taste and smell of my come off your mouth.” He chokes on the toothpaste, coughing like a maniac. I pat his back, all while laughing, which makes him glare at me. “Second of all,” I continue once I’m sure my lovely boyfriend isn’t going to die a slow, painful death choking on toothpaste. “You love those cheesy rom coms. You and your bloody chick flicks.”

“Daphne told me you spent all of December watching Christmas movies, you have no room to talk.”

I groan around my toothbrush.

“That was our secret. She should have never told you,” I say, pretending to be extremely wounded.

In truth, it warms my heart that Daphne would talk about me to Baz. I like that I spend enough time with Daphne for her to have things to say about me, and I love that she thinks Baz would be interested in knowing what boring things I do all day.

“Sorry Snow, at the end of the day, she still loves me more than you.”

I spit out again and point my toothbrush at Baz threateningly. “Not for long,” I say very seriously. “I got the little ones to like me more, I’ll get your mum to love me more too.”

He shakes his head before he bends down to spit out too. I check that there’s just saliva and toothpaste foam, even though I’ve seen him brush his teeth and I know he hasn’t done it too hard. 

We rinse our mouths and wipe our lips, and after cleaning the sink, we’re on our way out. It feels strangely good to have brushed my teeth with Baz. It’s so domestic. 

**…**

**Baz**

Because he’s a barbarian, Simon pins me to the wall at the top of the stairs and starts kissing me senseless. I let out a surprised gasp when I feel him push me, but his mouth is on mine before I can say something.

The kiss tastes fresh. It tastes of mint. 

“Just checking if you don’t taste of my come anymore,” the demon says with a wink as he pulls back.

He’ll be the death of me.

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t really pay attention to the date, I haven’t known exactly which day it was in weeks, but when we reach the dining room for breakfast, I can tell it’s Christmas Eve. The girls are super excited. 

I never really cared for Christmas, or Christmas Eve to be honest. At the care homes, it was just another day. For some kids, those were particularly rough days because they missed celebrating Christmas with their parents. Then, I sometimes celebrated it at Agatha’s, and it was nice, but not extraordinary. Her mum made a big deal out of it because she invited a lot of posh people and had to make the evening perfect, but it just made it suck for Agatha and I. Mostly, we hid in her room eating chocolate and cake and drinking champagne the one time she stole a bottle. It was fun, but it was like being at a party with a friend, you know? It was not the magic Christmas with your family that I’ve seen in those movies I watched. 

Maybe Christmas with the Grimms will be more like that.

Merlin, to think that mere months ago I was terrified of coming at Baz’s and now I’m thinking of spending Christmas here with excitement. 

It’s crazy how quickly things change.

“Merry Christmas!” Mordelia shouts when Baz and I walk in, a wide smile on her face. She hops out of her chair, and instead of scolding her for leaving the table before she’s done eating, Daphne just watches her fondly as she runs to Baz. 

He gets the hint and crouches to catch her in his arms. “Merry Christmas, Baz!” she laughs as he kisses her cheeks. 

When he stands back up, he makes her spin. “Merry Christmas.”

At Agatha’s, we said Merry Christmas on the 24th too. The 25th never felt special. It was just the day after the big party, when her parents stayed in bed late because they were exhausted and Aggie and I ate leftovers of the fancy food the guests had eaten the night before. Baz told me that here the 25th was when Fiona came, so I’m sure it _won’t_ be as peaceful as it was at Agatha’s. 

“Merry Christmas, Mordy,” I tell her, pinching her cheek when Baz lets her down.

She gives me a smile and goes back to her seat, chanting “Christmas, Christmas, Christmas” cheerfully.

Yeah, I think that Christmas with the Grimms is going to be great.

**…**

**Baz**

Today is a painfully long day. My sisters won’t shut up about Christmas, and Snow is about as excited as the girls while I’m panicking because my grandparents and my uncle are coming tonight and I don’t know what they’ll say about Simon. Probably not anything good. 

“Is there something wrong?” 

Simon’s voice startles me. I blink a couple of times, trying to bring my focus back on him. He’s got… flour? on his right eyebrow. He must have just come back from the kitchen. Snow decided he wanted to help my parents with Christmas dinner because he thinks it’s sweet that they cook themselves instead of asking the cook to prepare everything in advance and just reheat it with magic. 

“I’m a bit anxious about tonight. My family are coming and well, they don’t know that I’m gay. They have their doubts, of course, have you seen me, but I’ve never actually told them. And before you imagine things, I don’t want you to pretend not to be my boyfriend or to hide in your room or something. I’m not ashamed of you, and my family can go fuck themselves if they don’t like that I’m dating you, but it’s still stressful. I don’t want them to ruin Christmas for my sisters and their cousins by being cunts.”

**…**

**Simon**

Fuck I hadn’t thought about that, but yeah, I guess it makes sense that his relatives wouldn’t be very cool with Baz and I being a couple. His dad wasn’t happy about it at first, that must have come from somewhere. 

See, that’s the kind of stuff I don’t have in mind. Homophobia, I mean. Maybe it’s because I still can’t think of myself as gay. I’m dating Baz, that’s all. I haven’t really associated that to a sexuality yet. Besides, dating Baz is similar to dating Agatha for me -even though I actually love Baz- so I don’t really see why people would think it’s wrong, you know? It just doesn’t make sense. We’re in love, we’re not harming anyone. 

Baz, however, is very well aware of homophobia and it’s definitely something that is on his mind. It makes me sad. 

I head towards him, making him open his knees so that I can stand between them. He looks up to me, and my hand falls on his cheek, stroking it softly. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes. Told you he was like a cat or a dog. 

“I hope it’ll be okay,” I whisper. Then I clear my throat, because I did come up here with a purpose other than being with Baz. “And… uh… it’s possibly the worst moment to say this, but Daphne told me to tell you that Niall confirmed he’d be here. She texted Dev to tell him as well.”

I don’t really understand why Niall is coming. I mean doesn’t he have a family to spend Christmas Eve with? 

I would have asked Baz that if the worry on his face hadn’t intensified when I said Niall was coming.

“Aleister Crowley. It’s not going to be a fun dinner,” Baz sighs, turning his head to kiss my palm. 

“It can’t be _that_ bad.”

I _wish_ it can’t be that bad. 

Baz scoffs. “You have no idea what mess you’re getting into, Snow. But let’s not talk about that. Tonight will be difficult enough, we should enjoy yourself while we still can.”

I don’t know if it’s just Baz being dramatic about the whole thing or if his family coming here is really something he apprehends a lot. 

Whatever it is, he does seem decided to change the topic. 

“Come here, you oaf,” he says as he wraps one of his arms around my waist. He raises the other. “You’ve got flour on your eyebrow. How did you even end up with flour on your eyebrow?”

He raises his own eyebrow as he asks that, wiping mine clean, and then wiping his thumb on my jeans because he’s nice like that. 

“Hey, those are clean!”

“No they’re not, you’ve already worn them yesterday.”

“That doesn’t mean you can use them like a bloody towel,” I groan, rubbing the flour to try to get it off my trousers. 

“Yes it does. You’re going to take them off soon anyway,” Baz says as his hand on my waist becomes lighter, his fingers caressing me over the fabric of my clothes.

“Is that an invitation?” I ask suggestively, stepping closer. He has to spread his legs wider.

I’d say that fucking after he just told me about his homophobic relatives is a bit weird but I can’t say I wouldn’t be down for it.

Baz gives me a smirk. “I was simply talking about the fact that you’ll have to change into proper clothes for dinner, nothing more. What perverted idea has your sick brain had, huh?”

That motherfucker.

**…**

We don’t fuck, but we do snog for a while, shedding some layers of clothing -namely, my and Baz’s cardigan, and my shirt ; we get hotter when we make out- so it’s still a win. Eventually we have to stop because Mordelia knocks on the door -I told you she’s been traumatized, she _knocks_ now. 

I just have time to roll off of Baz before she opens the door. She doesn’t seem too fazed by the fact that I’m sitting here shirtless. 

“Mum said you two have to set the table and she said to be careful not to break anything. I’m sure she was thinking about you when she said that, Simon,” Mordelia says, and then she’s gone again. 

That kid, I swear to God.

Next to me, Baz is trying very hard to hold back a laugh. Bastard.

I roll my eyes at him as I reach for our clothes, throwing his cardigan on him. “Get dressed instead of making fun of me.”

“Even my sister knows you’re a clumsy fool,” he says, with amusement in his voice. “This is brilliant.”

**…**

While we’re on our way downstairs, I see that Baz has taken his phone out and that he’s texting someone. It’s a bit strange, he doesn’t usually text anyone, but well, it’s not really my business. 

**...**

**Baz**

[4:51 p.m.] _So, I heard Niall was coming for Christmas_

[4:51 p.m.]  **Yeah**

[4:52 p.m.] _How do you feel about that?_

[4:52 p.m.]  **I’m excited**

[4:52 p.m.]  **I miss him**

[4:52 p.m.] _Aren’t you a bit worried? With the family being here and all that?_

[4:53 p.m.]  **Mate I’m shitting my pants**

[4:53 p.m.]  **I’m gonna tell my parents beforehand because I don’t want them to start drama when they see Niall because they weren’t warned he’d be here**

[4:53 p.m.] _How do you think that will go?_

[4:54 p.m.]  **Probably not well. My dad asked me just yesterday if I had “come to my senses” and “found myself a future wife”**

[4:54 p.m.] _I’m sorry…_

[4:54 p.m.]  **It’s okay🤷🏻‍♀️**

[4:55 p.m.]  **I might just fuck it and tell them I want to marry Niall**

[4:55 p.m.] _Dev, I’m not sure that’s a good idea_

[4:55 p.m.]  **It’s definitely not but I’m tired of them thinking Niall is just a silly crush**

[4:55 p.m.]  **I KNOW that he’s my forever, even if they don’t like it**

[4:56 p.m.]  **And you know, maybe they’ll just pretend they don’t know I’m planning on staying with Niall**

[4:56 p.m.]  **They already pretend we’re not together anyway, it’s pretty much the same thing🤷🏻‍♀️**

[4:56 p.m.] _I wish they’d just accept that you’re in love with Niall_

[4:56 p.m.] _Snow’s looking over my shoulder, I’ve been on my phone for too long apparently. He said “It’s not like it’s a bloody crime”_

[4:57 p.m.]  **Such words of wisdom from the Chosen One**

[4:57 p.m.] _He said “Fuck off”_

[4:57 p.m.]  **Tell him to fuck off too**

**...**

Setting the table with Simon is… Let’s just say it’s an experience. 

He isn’t able to judge measurements by sight so trying to center the tablecloth was a challenge. He has no idea which piece of cutlery goes where -nor does he know what they’re used for- so I had to explain it to him -and he still messed up the placement of some of them, so I had to fix it. He knocked a wine glass with his elbow, almost making it fall on the floor. 

But at least he tried. 

Now we’re folding napkins, and, unsurprisingly, he’s struggling a little, but he won’t give up. 

“Why does yours look so much better, I did the exact same thing as you,” he exclaims, frustrated, pointing at the napkin I just finished folding.

“Years of experience. Daphne has been exploiting me since I was 9.”

“Oh, poor you.”

I’m about to answer something biting but I’m interrupted by the ringing of my phone.

“Continue while I answer,” I tell Simon as I stand up, taking my phone out of my pocket.

I have a bad feeling when I see the name on the screen.

I walk to the other side of the room for some semblance of privacy, and then I pick up.

“Dev?”

“Hey. So… I need you to do something for me.”

His voice doesn’t sound quite like it always does. I frown.

“What?”

“I need you to drive to my place to pick me up. Well, to the village really, not to the house.”

I _really_ have a bad feeling about this now. His parents are supposed to come to my place with him in less than two hours, why would he need me to pick him up?

“Dev. Of course I can come. But why? What happened?”

I hear him take a shaky breath. 

“I told them that I was serious about Niall. That I was going to marry him.”

My stomach drops.

“They didn’t take it well,” I say stupidly, because _of course,_ they didn’t take it well.

His voice is trembling when he says, “They kicked me out, Baz.”


	31. Chapter Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was so hard to write omg I had no inspiration whatsoever

**Baz**

The first thing I hear after leaving the ballroom is my father’s voice, louder than it ever gets. My father doesn’t scream. Never. Not since Daphne lives with us, anyway. 

“You must be out of your mind!” I hear as I rush to the entrance hall, a confused Simon following me. 

“What the…” Snow says when he hears my father too. 

“He’s your son, Stephen!”

Oh. So my parents know too. Did my uncle call them? That doesn’t make any sense.

I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. What matters is driving up to his village and seeing Dev. As soon as possible.

“Oh no, don’t you dare bring Baz into this, as far as I’m concerned my son still lives under my roof!”

Well, I must say I do see where my uncle is coming from. My father hasn’t exactly always been as acceptant of my sexuality as he is now. 

“Baz, will you explain…” Simon starts as I grab the shoes of mine that take the less time to put on.

They look horrible with my outfit.

“It’s complicated. Long story short, Dev’s parents kicked him out and I have to go pick him up.”

He gasps.

“Kicked him out? Why?”

“Niall.” I put my coat on, not bothering with closing it. “Go back to the ballroom and keep doing what you were doing, I’ll be back. Love you.”

I shut the door before Simon can even begin to answer. 

**…**

**Simon**

What the fuck.

Not even half an hour ago, Baz was chatting on the phone with Dev and now he’s driving Merlin knows where to pick him up because he got kicked out.

That’s so fucking awful.

I’m starting to realize how much courage it must have taken Baz to tell his dad he was gay, and then, to tell him we were dating. _He_ could have been the one who got kicked out.

When we talked about that, coming out and stuff, he said that his situation wasn’t bad even if his dad was kinda homophobic sometimes because at least he hadn’t been kicked out or disowned. I though that was setting the bar very fucking low. But apparently even when it’s _that_ low some people can’t reach the bloody bar.

I can’t believe this.

I mean, I don’t exactly have room to talk when it comes to having good parents. My mum died _before_ she could parent me, and my father… well. But still. How could someone do this to their child. How can you raise a kid for years and then decide you don’t love them anymore just because they’re not straight? That’s such bullshit. 

**…**

**Baz**

[6:12 p.m.] _Where are you? I’m almost here_

[6:12 p.m]  **The coffee shop**

At least he’s somewhere warm. I was afraid he had just wandered the streets in this freezing weather like an idiot. 

I park as close as I can to said coffee shop, and the moment I can look inside, I spot Dev. He’s got a cup in his hands but he’s staring into space, not lifting the cup to drink whatever it is that’s in it. 

[6:16 p.m.] _I’m outside. Do you want me to come in or are you ready to leave?_

I see him jump. His phone must have startled him when he received my messages. He reads it, and then looks out of the window, trying to see me. When he does, he drinks all the content of his cup in one go, leaves a bill on the table, grabs something -a big bag? a small suitcase?- and heads out.

The closer he gets, the better I see his bloodshot eyes.

I hate this. Dev doesn’t cry. 

As he get out of the shop, he gives me a weak smile, that looks more like a grimace. 

“Thanks for coming.”

I roll my eyes at him as I put my arm around his shoulders. I also reach for his bag with my other hand, slinging it on my own shoulder. “Don’t thank me, you moron.”

“You don’t need to carry my stuff,” he says flatly. 

“Shh, let me be nice. It won’t happen again.”

It brings a small smile that actually looks like a smile on his face. Good. 

We walk the rest of the distance between the coffee shop and my car in silence, partly because I don’t think Dev wants to talk right now, and partly because I wouldn’t know what to say to start a conversation.

I open one of the doors to put his bag on the backseat, and then I take my place on the driver’s as Dev sits next to me. 

He’s wearing a suit and his hair is slicked back. It makes my heart clench. He was getting reading to celebrate Christmas an hour ago and now he’s going to drive to my house with me instead of his parents because they’ve kicked him out. 

It’s so fucking awful.

I didn’t think they would go that far. My father didn’t, so I assumed it would be the same for Dev’s. He must have thought the same thing.

We were both so wrong. 

I hesitate about whether or not I should try to say something when I see Dev take his earphones out of his pocket.

Well, at least I know I don’t have to talk.

**…**

**Dev**

Maybe I shouldn’t have started playing my music. Baz dropped whatever he was doing to drive all the way here, and I’m ignoring him. It’s rude. But I’m really not in the mood to talk right now. 

Besides, what would we even say? What more is there to say than what I already told him on the phone? I don’t want to hear Baz tell me he’s sorry for me and it’s terrible what my parents did and blah blah blah. I don’t need nor want his pity. 

For a moment, when we’re about halfway to Baz’s place, I think about texting Niall. Just to chat with him. He always makes me feel better, even when he doesn’t even know I’m feeling low and need cheering up. He makes me feel better just by being himself and randomly sending me songs he likes or that remind him of me, of us, or ranting about a movie he’s just seen that I don’t know and have no interest in watching or recording videos of his kitchen before and after he does the dishes demanding that I congratulate him for his hard work. 

However, I don’t text him. He must be on his way to Baz’s as well, and he never looks at his phone while driving. He’s pretty freaked about getting in a car crash so he’s super careful when he drives -which isn’t often because he hates it.

So instead, I just spend the rest of the drive listening to my music, looking out of the window, and pretending I don’t see the worried glances Baz gives me from times to times.

**…**

**Baz**

Dev and I have barely come home that Daphne is already making her way to the entrance hall. She at least has the decency to let Dev take off his shoes and coat before she starts fussing over him, ever so caring.

“Hello Dev. How are you feeling?” she asks him as she reaches out to put her hand on his arm.

He looks at me. “You told them?”

I shake my head, wincing. “Your father called.”

“He _what_?” Dev exclaims, turning back to Daphne with wide eyes. “Why would he call?”

I must say, I don’t really understand how my father ended up on the phone with his brother either. Daphne gives Dev an uneasy smile. “He was calling to tell us how… outraged he felt because we invited Niall for Christmas, and to say that he wouldn’t come, and your grandmother called a little bit later to say that she and your grandfather weren’t coming either.”

“Because they don’t want to see me with Niall,” Dev says, an emotion I can’t quite place in his voice.

Daphne bites her lip. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Dev says, shaking his head. “For ruining Christmas.”

I see sadness flash in Daphne’s eyes as she pulls on Dev’s arm slowly to then wrap her own arms around him. I know Dev isn’t one for hugs, but even he doesn’t refuse hugs from Daphne. 

“You didn’t ruin anything, sweetheart.”

I feel like this isn’t something I should be allowed to witness. I quickly put my coat on the rack and walk away. 

**…**

**Dev**

“I did, though.” I feel more than see Baz walk by me as I speak. “If I’d waited just a bit more to tell my parents I wanted to marry Niall, maybe they wouldn’t have made such a big deal out of him coming, and they wouldn’t have cancelled. Neither would my grandparents. Because of me there’ll just be your side of the family coming tonight. The girls would have been happy to see their grandparents, I’m sure.”

Daphne’s arms become softer around me until she lets me go. “Maybe they wouldn’t have cancelled, but think about it. You would have been here, and so would have Niall. Baz and Simon would have been here, and I know that they don’t intend on pretending they’re not in a relationship. Tonight could not have gone well. I’d rather they don’t come than they come and make the evening terrible for everyone. Really, you have nothing to apologize about, and you shouldn’t focus on that anyway. Focus on yourself. What your parents did, that’s the real issue here. It’s so unfair, Dev. Malcolm tried to make your father see the wrong in his actions but…”

“Daphne, please. I… I don’t want to talk about this. It’s Christmas. I’m here to get drunk on wine and make fun of Baz for the presents he bought, not to get all depressed about my parents kicking me out, okay?”

I don’t want to even think about it. I knew it was a possibility, and it’s bloody awful that it happened, but feeling sorry for myself won’t make them change their mind. At least now I don’t have to lie about who I am and who I love ever again. 

“Okay. But if you do want to talk about it, later, I’m here.” She gives me a smile and I do my best to give her one back. “Now, there’s still time before the guests should arrive. You can go pick your room. I suppose Niall will stay with you?”

Daphne’s smile becomes more playful when she says it. Merlin, how do Baz and Snow do to _live_ with her.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Alright. Dev, before you go,” she says, putting her hand on my arm again and smiling softly. It’s like it’s all she ever does. Smiling, I mean. “I don’t know what you were planning on doing or if you even already thought about what you wanted to do, but keep in mind that there’s a room for you here if you need and that your uncle and I would be glad to welcome you home for as long as you wish.”

And just like that, she’s gone, not even giving me time to thank her.

**…**

**Baz**

Buying Snow that suit was probably the best thing I ever used my money for. I can’t even see him all of him yet when I walk in the room, he’s facing the mirror which means he has his back turned on me, but well, the view from behind is already rather nice. It’s snug just in the right places, and a bit tighter than when we bought it, which I’m definitely _not_ mad about. 

Simon looks good in everything, even in those ratty tracksuits and t-shirts he used to wear when coming back after the summer, but in a _suit_ . I might have a heart attack. I’ve never seen him wear anything more classy than our _school uniform_ -except for when I made him try the suit of course- so I’m really enjoying myself right now.

I can’t wait to see it from the front. 

I lean against the doorframe, watching him. From the way his arms move, I can tell that he’s struggling to tie his tie, and from his lack of acknowledgment of my presence, I understand that he doesn’t know I’m here. He often says I’m “too bloody discreet, for fuck’s sake Baz, stop creeping on me.”. It’s not my fault I can walk without making a whole production out of it, unlike Snow. 

He lets out a frustrated groan. I imagine it’s because he still hasn’t been able to form a proper knot. 

“Here, let me help you,” I say as I push myself away from the doorframe.

Unsurprisingly, Simon jumps. “Fucking hell, Baz,” he mutters as he turns around.

Merlin and Morgana, he does look better from

the front. 

Grey is definitely his colour. It looks nice against his tawny skin, and it makes his eyes seem even bluer, somehow. 

I cock an eyebrow. “Do you want help or not?”

“Yes, please,” he says, letting go of his tie defeated. 

It doesn’t look bad at all like that, undone and hanging around his neck.

I close the distance between us, and take both sides of his tie between my fingers. “Look,” I tell him. “I’ll do it slowly so you can try to replicate it. You could try to tie mine, see you get the hang of it. If you know how to tie it on someone else, you can always tie it around a hanger or something and then make it go over your head.”

“It’s what I did at Watford,” he says, looking down. I start working on making a knot with slow, careful movements. “I mean, Penny tied my tie, and then I just loosened the knot to take it off and tightened it when I put it on again.”

My knuckles brush against his neck and I hear his breathing catch.

I’d make fun of him, but I must say, there’s some inexplicable sensuality to tying his tie for him. 

We’re so close, our breaths blend together. 

Once I’m done with the knot, I use my hold on the tie to pull him in a kiss. 

“You’re beautiful,” I breathe against his lips when we break apart. 

“Thank you. I can’t wait to see you in yours.”

**…**

**Simon**

To no one’s surprise, Baz looks gorgeous in his suit. It’s dark green, almost the same shade as the Christmas tree in the living room, and it looks like it was tailored for him. It probably was. That’s the kind of rich people thing Baz would do, having his ridiculously posh clothes tailor-made.

I notice that he hasn’t put any product in his hair, simply pinning some of it back so that it won’t fall in his face like it always does. I’m curious to see what he uses to hold his hair back. Probably not just a hair tie, that’s not sophisticated enough for Baz Pitch on Christmas dinner. 

When he walks up to me, he hands me a tie. “Let’s see if you remember when I just showed you,” he says as he stands still in front of me. 

I actually _do_ remember what he just showed me. Will I be able to do it? That’s another question entirely.

I wore a tie for seven years at school, and I still don’t know how to tie them. I’m pretty sure I never will.

And indeed, I fuck him.

I can’t seem to get the knot right, even if I’m _sure_ I’m doing the same thing as Baz did. 

**…**

**Baz**

He’s getting irritated again. His movements are more jolting and hasty. 

I put my hands over his.

“Stop, it’s okay. It’s not like you _need_ to know how to tie a tie anyway, right? It’s not like you wear them often, and when you do have to wear them, I could always tie it for you.”

“It’s ridiculous that I can’t tie a bloody tie,” he groans as he takes his hands away from underneath mine. 

I quickly deal with the knot, and then I focus back on my adorable, pouting boyfriend. “There are plenty of things you can’t do that are more ridiculous than not being able to do this, don’t worry,” I tell him with a smirk.

He slaps my arm. “Hey! Fuck off, Baz.”

**…**

We chat in my room until it’s time for the guests to arrive. I though Simon might question me about what happened with Dev, but he doesn’t. Even if he did, I wouldn’t know what to tell him. I picked Dev uo, we didn’t talk, and my stepmother took the reins when we came back home. I don’t know how Dev is doing any better than Snow does.

It’s upsetting, but I don’t want to pressure Dev into talking to me if he doesn’t want to. He’s much less open than I am about feelings, and I’m not exactly the most open person either. I suspect he’ll talk to Niall, it’s always Niall he talks to, which makes sense, I guess. Considering the fact that they’re boyfriends and all that.

**…**

**Dev**

I drop my bag on the floor the moment I step in my room. It’s the room where I’ve always slept, when I had sleepovers here -I always ended up in Baz’s room, but I still got a room for myself, just in case. It’s much too close to Baz’s, in my opinion -I love the fucker, but if I have to hear him shag Snow I might muder him, murder them both.

I look around the room, taking in the rather familiar sight. Nothing ever changes in this house. Except for the people who live in it. I have vague memories of being here when Baz’s mum was still alive. 

Daphne suggested I could be one of the people who live here. 

I don’t know if I will stay, though. 

It’s their home, I don’t want to intrude, even if it’s just for a short period of time until I go back to school, but I don’t really have anywhere to go, except with Niall.

The thing is, Niall’s mum doesn’t want us both to be all alone in their flat. It’s partly because because she doesn’t want us to fuck all over the llace, and partly because she thinks I’m gonna show up with my bags full of drugs and alcohol and drugs, I think.

Those are not necessarily wrong things to worry about. If I was alone with Niall we _would_ be having sex, and I’d probably try to get him to drink a bit, if he was in the mood for that. 

But yeah, because of that, she doesn’t want me to come to their place, which is why I always go _-went-_ back to my parents’ place during the holidays. If going to Niall’s was an option, I would choose it, no hesitation. All I ever want is to be with him. We’re together all the time at school, and yet it doesn’t feel like enough. It never does.

**…**

**Niall**

I’m almost buzzing with excitement when I knock on the door. It’s ridiculous, I have seen Dev only a few days ago, but I’m still impatient to see him again.

And I’m also curious to see Snow make a fool of himself in front of Baz’s family, but that’s just a nice bonus. 

When Daphne opens the door, I can tell something is wrong. She’s trying to hide it, but she has a worried look in her eyes.

Merlin, what happened? Did Baz do something stupid again? No, why would he, he has Snow now.

Did _Snow_ do something stupid? I thought the bloke was rather harmless now that he didn’t have magic anymore, but who knows. 

I come inside, and this bad feeling intensifies. Dev’s coat is on the rack, but his parents’ car wasn’t parked outside. No later than yesterday, he told me he was going to Baz's with his parents for Christmas Eve. It doesn’t make sense that he’d be here and not them. 

As I turn around after putting my own coat on the rack, I see him walking towards me, and I feel a lump in my throat. There’s something about the look on his face that makes me uncomfortable. 

He puts his arms around me as soon as he’s close enough to do so and… Aleister fucking Crowley there’s definitely something wrong.

“Hey, babe,” I tell him as I hug him back. “Everything alright?”

He lets out a breathy, nervous laugh. “Not really, no.”


	32. Chapter Thirty One

**Dev**

By the time I’m done telling Niall everything, he has a horrified look on his face and he’s gripping my hand with so much strength it hurts. 

“Dev, I’m…”

“Don’t,” I interrupt him immediately. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I don’t want you to pity me or whatever. I told you because it’s… well it’s kind of an important thing,” I say with a short, breathy laugh. “But it’s just so that you know it happened. I don’t want nor need you to make a big deal out of it.”

It’s a dumb thing to say. If Niall was the one in my situation, It would have made me go fucking feral to know his mum had done that, but the thing is it happened to _me_ and Niall taking it all very seriously and fussing over me like I’m a helpless child won’t help. I know that it’s his first instinct, he’s very protective and he can be a bit of a mother hen with his friends when he thinks they need to be coddled, and that’s great when he’s like that with other people -namely Baz, Merlin knows Niall acts like he’s his mum, it makes me wonder if I _truly_ want children with that bloke- but it makes me feel uncomfortable and smothered. 

“But it _is_ a big deal,” he argues. “Your parents fucking kicked you out because you’re dating _me_ , how do you want me not to make a big deal out of it?”

I don’t like the way he says it. Dating _him_ , like it’s _him_ the problem. Like it’s his fault my parents are homophobic cunts.

**…**

**Niall**

“First of all,” Dev says, looking at me very seriously. He doesn’t often look serious. It’s a bit funny, it looks fake. “it’s not because I’m dating _you,_ it’s because I’m dating a boy, and they’re arseholes. If it was any other bloke, it’d be the exact same thing. They want me to marry a woman and have a son with her and they’re pissed that it won’t happen. There’s really not much to say about it.” 

He isn’t completely wrong about that, there isn’t much to say, but there are still some things he didn’t tell me. Like how he _really_ feels about this, instead of letting me assume from his strange mood when I arrived and the way his voice quivered as he spoke. 

“Let’s just move on. You haven’t even kissed me yet and you’ve been here for at least 20 minutes, that’s a shame Niall.”

I roll my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. He’s impossible. 

I suppose he’ll talk about this when he’ll be ready. I’m not going to force him. Instead, I slide my hand behind his neck, holding his head gently as I lean in to capture his lips. His hand automatically falls on my waist, applying some pressure, an invitation to come closer. I do. I press my chest against his. I can’t believe I was once afraid of that. Pulling Dev close. Feeling his body against mine and letting him feel mine against his. 

When he pulls back, his face still so close that he looks a bit blurry, his fingers stroke me gently over the fabric of my clothes. “That’s a nice jumper you have here. Very soft,” he comments. 

“Alana sent it to me for Christmas. She said she thought of me when she saw it in the shop.”

“Because it’s the same blue as your contacts?” he asks, laughter in his voice.

I nod. “Because it’s the same blue as my contacts, yes.”

My sister has been teasing me about those damn contacts since I started wearing them, which is particularly bitchy of her because _she_ got blue eyes naturally while I have to resort to other means to make my eyes look something that isn’t boring brown.

Some people have pretty brown eyes. _Dev_ does. His eyes are deep, rich colour in regular lightning and they look like liquid gold in the sunlight. It’s beautiful. Mine are _not_ like that at all.

“She really only has one joke,” Dev comments, his hand slipping under my jumper.

I’m wearing a button down and a muscle shirt -it’s cold at Baz’s- but it’s still one less layer between us. 

“She’s annoying. I would have ignored her if the jumper wasn’t so lovely. It’s really cruel that she makes a gift to make fun of me but somehow manages to still make it a good gift.”

My own hand goes up in his hair as Dev keeps stroking my back softly. 

“Niall.”

“What?”

“Can we stop talking about your sister?” he asks, his breath on my lips, hot and inviting.

I swallow.

“Yeah.”

**…**

**Baz**

The first time I heard a car outside I didn’t bother moving Simon off of me to go say hello. I knew it was Niall, precautious as he is, he texted me a bit before he arrived. The second time, however, my hands go from where they’re resting low on his back to his chest, pushing him away. He lets out a frustrated sigh when our lips part. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to snog some other time. For now, we have to go downstairs and be sociable,” I tell him, fixing his hair as best as I can.

It’s always a mess anyway, but I’d like it to look somewhat decent tonight. It’s only Daphne’s sister, but Daphne has been with my father for so long, her family is a bit like mine too. And her sister is actually not a terrible person, and someone I genuinely like, so I’d like Simon, my _boyfriend_ , to make a good impression. 

Daphne’s family aren’t nearly as into politics as mine, so her sister should be much less prejudiced about Snow than my father and Fiona were. This is the first time him being himself will be the only thing the impression someone will have of him will rely on. 

“Why are you panicking,” he asks as he gets out of the bed, putting the jacket of his suit back on.

“I’m not panicking,” I answer right away, dealing with my own clothes.

Miraculously, despite all the rolling around and groping Simon and I engaged in, my suit isn’t wrinkled. 

“Yes you are. Are you starting to feel ashamed about dating me?”

He says it in a way that he means to be casual but I can hear the obvious doubt in his voice. I wait for him to be next to me to take his hand. “I’m not ashamed of you, Simon. I could never be.” I bring his hand to my mouth and kiss his knuckles. “I’m simply a bit nervous. I’d like Daphne’s sister to like you, and even though her husband and her don’t seem like the kind to be against gay couples, you can never really know until you face it.”

He has this surprised look on his face that is usually followed by a “I didn’t think about that.”.

I peck his lips before he can say it. “For confidence,” I tell him with a smirk as I start walking, dragging him along.

“As if you needed to boost your confidence,” he mumbles.

I dig my nail in his flesh and he lets out a small pain gasp. “Outch, why would you do that.”

“Because you’re being annoying.”

He’s about to protest but seeing me stop moving prevents him from saying anything. I knock on the door in front of which I’m standing, Simon looking at me with furrowed eyebrows. “Stop doing whatever gross thing you’re doing and come downstairs, the guests are here,” I say loudly, leaning close to the door to make sure I’m heard.

And just like that, I’m heading towards the stairs again. I only take the time to look over my shoulder and say “Dev and Niall.” to Simon so that he won’t ask.

“How do you know where they are?” he says, because apparently even when I predict what he’s going to ask, he can still find a question.

“Dev always stays in this room when he’s sleeping here, and since he arrived first, it makes sense that he’d taken Niall to this room instead of going to the one where Niall usually sleeps.”

“Oh. Okay. That makes sense, I guess.”

“Everything I do makes sense, Snow.”

No it doesn’t.

“No it doesn’t. Half of the things you do are pure nonsense.” 

I can’t see his face since he’s walking behind me, but I’m sure he has a cocky smile on his lips. 

That bastard. I wish he was still in that phase when he thought I was perfect and flawless. Now the little shit makes fun of me more than I think is tolerable.

The worst thing is I can’t even be mad at him. He’s too fucking adorable for me to ever _truly_ be mad at him.

Just now, he’s hopping down the stairs next to me like Mordelia would. It’s so cute. 

It’s disgusting how much I love him.

When we arrive downstairs, I notice that there’s no one in the entrance hall. They must have already moved to the lounge right next to the ballroom.

Fiona said that when her parents were the one living here, it was the living room. They preferred the rooms that are behind the staircase over those that are directly next to the front door, apparently. It may be why that room is furnished so well and doesn’t seem as sinister as some others. It was lived in, not that long ago. 

“It’s exciting, going here,” Snow says, a smile in his voice, because he’s a child. 

He’s been curious about a lot of rooms in the manor since he arrived, but I think he’s a bit afraid to wander alone in here. I told him about the wraiths, it freaked him out.

The Chosen One, the boy who was slaying dragons when he was 11 years old, is afraid of the ghosts in my ancestral home. It’s ridiculous. _He’s_ ridiculous.

“Simon, you have literally lived here for weeks. You could have explored whenever you wanted.”

“Nah, I’m not exploring your creepy haunted mansion on my own. I’m curious but I don’t want to die.”

“I think you’ve faced things scarier than my childhood home, Snow.”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. 

I roll my eyes at him, but I don’t argue because we’ve reached the room. I drop his hand before I walk in. 

As expected, my family and Daphne’s sister’s are here, the adults sitting on the couch and armchairs and the kids running around. 

“Basil!” Anne exclaims when she sees me. “Hello.”

She stands from where she was sitting, walking towards me.

Her sister isn’t as sweet as Daphne, but she’s rather friendly, and doesn’t have the cold, controlled manners of the Old Families. I found it distasteful at first, how she would hug me and even _pinch my cheeks_ , but now that I’ve warmed up to touch a little bit, I enjoy it. 

She’s putting her hands on my shoulders the moment she stops in front of me. I’m at least two heads taller than she is, so it’s rather comical. 

“You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you.” She pinches my waist. “But you’re too thin, you should eat more.”

“Yes, Anne,” I answer, a small smile on my lips. 

“And who’s that pretty boy with you?” she asks, looking back and forth between Snow and I with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

I offer Simon my hand, and when I feel his fingers slip between mine, I give Anne a shy look. “My boyfriend. Simon Snow, as I suppose you know. Simon, this is Anne, Daphne’s sister.”

“Boyfriend? Since when do you have a boyfriend.”

She acts surprised as if I’m not the walking cliché of a gay man. Or maybe she is surprised that I managed to find someone willing to date me, not that it’s a boy. 

“It’s a recent development.”

“Shut up, we’ve been dating for three months, that’s not _recent_ ,” Simon mumbles. 

I glare at him. “Whatever. Come on, I have more people to introduce you to.”

**…**

**Simon**

Daphne’s sister and brother-in-law aren’t terrifying. Not nearly as terrifying as Malcolm or Fiona, anyway. Anne seems nice, and she doesn’t act all posh and haughty like the people who came at Mrs Wellbelove’s Christmas party, and neither does her husband, Fred, so I suppose they aren’t from one of the Old Families. 

Normal people. Finally.

No, I’m being a bit harsh with Baz’s family. They’re really not that bad. Daphne is great, and the kids are just kids. But they live in a bloody _manor._ And well, there’s his dad. 

Anyway.

Anne and Fred aren’t the only people Baz introduces me to, though. Right now, a little boy probably around the same age as Mordelia is looking at me with wide, impressed eyes, like I’m Spiderman or something.

“Chosen One, do you really have a sword?” the kid asks me. I don’t even know his name. Maybe he doesn’t know mine either, if he calls me _thats_.

I already disliked it when people called me Chosen One _before_ Halloween, but now that I’ve lost my magic, it’s unbearable. It’s only okay when it’s Baz, because he only calls me that to take the piss out of me. 

“Call me Simon, not Chosen One…”

Seeing my hesitation, Baz whispers “Thomas.”

“...Thomas. And no, I don’t really have a sword.” 

Not anymore. 

I feel Baz’s hand on the small of my back. It’s light, he’s barely touching me, but it’s here, and it’s a comfort.

“But Maya said you did!” Thomas exclaims, pointing a furious hand at the girl sitting on the floor, staring at her phone, completely unbothered. Her hair catches my attention. Part of it is a vivid blue, and it’s all braided, with some kind of jewelry -I guess it’s jewelry, it shines- in it. It’s beautiful. “Maya, you lied to me!”

“No, no, no,” I say, waving my hands. “She didn’t lie to you. I used to have a sword. I just don’t anymore.”

Well, the truth is, I haven’t tried conjuring up the Sword of Mages since I lost my magic, but I suppose that as I’m not a _mage_ anymore, the Sword of _Mages_ no longer come when I call it, and it would hurt too much to try and see it fail. 

“Did you lose it?”

You could say that. “Yes.”

Thomas’s eyes go wide again, and he presses his hands against his mouth, which is currently shaped in a shocked ‘o’.

“That’s stupid. If I had a sword I wouldn’t lose it,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. Then he continues, very seriously. “You should be more careful with your things. 

I feel like I’m being lectured by a child. It’s so funny. 

Kids are so funny. I love how they react to things, and how they have no filter. 

“I will be, I promise.”

“Thanks for your wise words, Thomas,” Baz says. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like Simon to go say hello to Maya. You could talk to him again later if you want, alright?”

Thomas nods vigorously, before running to where Mordelia is busy turning in place to make her dress fly around herself.

“How old is he?” I ask Baz, craning my neck to look at him. 

“9. And Maya is 14,” he adds as he uses the hand that’s on my back to push me towards the girl sitting on the floor. 

14\. So she was at Watford. I mean, I could have guessed from how she looks, she doesn’t look like a child, but it didn’t click until Baz said it. I don’t remember seeing her at school, but I never really paid attention to the kids much younger -and much older, when I was one of the youngest ones- than me. I never saw the point. I could not even make friends with people my age, even with my appealing magic, so why would people older or younger want to have anything to do with me. 

Once we get close enough to her, Maya looks up from her phone. Her eyes are that same pretty dark brown as her brother’s. “Hello,” she says as she lays a hand flat on the floor to use it to push herself up. 

She gives Baz a disbelieving look. “You’re dating Simon Snow.”

“I am. Is that surprising?”

“Well, you never really said you were gay, or whatever if is that you are, and the reputation you two had at school _wasn’t_ that you snogged all over the place. More that you _fought_ all over the place.”

She says it all very flatly, looking at Baz with bored eyes. 

Baz chuckles. “Gay, yes. I mean, that’s what I am. Gay.” He still looks uncomfortable saying the word, like it weighs a ton on his tongue, making it hard to get it out. “And yes, it’s true, we used to fight a lot, but as you can guess, we don’t anymore.”

She nods. “So you’re fucking the Chosen One.”

Baz chokes on his saliva, and I feel my eyes go wide. Did she just… Did she just say that when her parents and _Baz’s_ are in the same room? Jesus Christ.

And that word again. _Chosen One._

I hear a laugh behind us, and see Baz jump. The next second, I see Dev leaning on Baz, winking at Maya. I hadn’t even noticed Dev and Niall had arrived in this room, too caught up in meeting Baz’s cousins -do they count as his cousins? I don’t know? I don’t think so? Whatever. 

“More the other way around, if you ask me,” Dev whispers, amusement in his voice.

**…**

**Baz**

I’m going to kill him.

I don’t care that he went through something extremely difficult today, I will bloody murder him. Why is he invited? More importantly, why am I friends with him?

“Fuck off and die,” I say under my breath as I elbow him in the stomach.

He lets out a breath when I hit him, and then just starts laughing more. I fucking despise him.

Maya also looks very amused by the whole thing. I glance at Snow and he at least has the decency to look embarrassed too. Good man. Finally someone on my side.

“Am I wrong, though,” my cousin says, giggling, as he props his chin on my shoulder. 

“Fuck. Off. And. Die.”

Niall, my best friend, my savior, the only person I can trust and rely on, comes and rescues me. He nudges Dev in the side, giving him one of his signature disapproving looks. “Come on, be nice, it’s Christmas.”

“I don’t want to be nice to _Baz_ ,” Dev says, looking at me like I’m the cause for all of his problems.

The love of your family really is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?

Niall shakes his head. “Be nice,” he says again.

“Or what? You’ll punish me?” Dev says with a smirk.

Crowley, he’s in a mood tonight. 

Niall rolls his eyes at him. “Hush. Anyway,” he continues, turning his attention to Maya, who’s looking at us three, holding back a laugh. “Hello, I’m Niall, Baz’s friend. You already know Dev.”

“Yep. The cousin.”

She doesn’t say anything about his parents not being here. Daphne must have warned them not to mention my father’s side of the family. 

“I like your hair,” Niall comments, pointing at the blue part of Maya’s hair with his chin.

Someone give him a medal for trying to start a normal conversation, as awkward as it is.

A smile grows on her face when he says it. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, the blue is so cool.”

The words come from Simon, surprising me. He isn’t one to engage in conversations, especially with people he isn’t familiar or comfortable with. 

“My best friend likes dying her hair, but she never had such a bright colour. It looks awesome,” he continues. 

“Thanks,” Maya says again, her smile getting bigger.

“You know what else looks awesome, Snow,” Dev says.

I don’t know why, but I have a feeling I’m going to want to murder him again.

“What?” Simon asks, adorably confused, turning to Dev.

He probably wasn’t expecting him to talk to him.

“The red Baz had in his hair a few years ago.”

I _will_ murder him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m convinced Baz had some kind of hair dye situation going on at least once during his teenage years.  
> (and no, I’m not that cruel, I won’t start the next chapter on something else, it will start with Dev and Niall telling Simon all about Baz dying his hair)


	33. Chapter Thirty Two

**Baz**

Simon looks at me like he’s never seen me before. “You dyed your hair?” he says, shock in his voice. 

And he calls _me_ dramatic. 

“Yes,” I answer shortly, before glaring at Dev, who’s grinning widely. “And that was supposed to stay between us.”

“He’s your boyfriend now. It’s my duty as your cousin, best friend…”

“Niall’s my best friend. You’re someone I hang out with because it’s convenient.”

That’s absolutely not true, and we both know it. He’s a prick, but I love him. 

“Go fuck yourself,” he says without batting an eye. “So as I was saying, it is my duty as your cousin, best friend, and future best man at your wedding…”

“Niall will be my best man.”

Dev punches my shoulder. “Shut your mouth, Tyrannus.”

“Call me that again and I will hex you,” I say, touching my sleeve, over where my wand is concealed. 

He rolled his eyes, not impressed. Maybe I should _really_ hex him, someday. Teach him a lesson.

Niall would be mad at me, though.

“ _Whatever_. It’s my role to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend. I think he has a too high opinion of you. You’re just as pathetic as the rest of us. _More_ pathetic, really. You’re so fucking ridiculous all the time.”

I clasp my hands together, looking at him like I’m some Disney princess and he’s my prince charming, and say with an exaggeratedly high voice. “I love when you tell me nice things like that, Dev.”

“Yeah, you’ll love it too when I’ll show Snow pictures of you from when we were 15.”

“You are _not_ going to do that,” I say, but he’s already slipped away, and I don’t mind too much anyway. I won’t put up a fight for this.

Simon knows and has seen worse things than my younger self having some sort of teenage rebellion moment during the summer after I turned 15, because I felt _so grown up_ and wanted to mess with my father. To get a reaction from my father, really. I thought I might achieve that by changing my appearance in ways I was sure he would not approve of. 

The only reaction I got was a raised eyebrow and a sigh.

“Yes I am,” Dev says in a singsong voice, waving at me from the door frame, that stupid smile still on his face.

**…**

**Dev**

That’s actually a good opportunity. There’s something I need to get in my bag, and going to the room to grab my phone -well, Niall’s, he’s the one constantly taking pictures- gives me the perfect excuse. Thank Merlin Niall didn’t follow me. 

I get his phone first, slipping it in the inside pocket of my suit jacket, and then taking my bag. I open it, and rummage through it until my fingers hit the small box I’ve been keeping with me and hiding for months. I open it, take what’s inside, and put that in my pocket too. It’s a large pocket, and my jacket isn’t tight, so no one should be able to see the shape of it through the pocket. 

Then I’m on my way back downstairs, being careful on the stairs in case Baz’s demon of a sister decided to put her stuff there for me to trip and fall and die again.

When I reach the sitting room, I notice that they’re all gone. Nice. A little heads up would be nice next time. 

I walk the way to the ballroom, wondering how it’s decorated this year -Daphne always tries to do something different, she’s very invested in Christmas, which makes me feel even more shitty for causing half of the guests not to show up but let’s not think about that. 

It looks…

**…**

**Simon**

Magical.

Daphne worked her magic -literally- on the ballroom after I was done folding napkins and putting them in plates for people who didn’t come, so I didn’t get to see what the ballroom looked like but wow… that’s wonderful.

I feel a smile grow on my face as I look around the room, probably even more excited than the children, who are gasping enthusiastically. 

The mirrors on one side of the room that were a bit dusty have been completely cleaned, and they make the room look so much bigger. They’re surrounded at the top by fake snow that goes down the side of them, fading until there’s no more snow. It’s the same thing for the large windows on the opposite wall. The two other, smaller walls, are decorated more simply, with some plant stuff that makes it look like we’re in an enchanted forest. The floor, that before was wooden floor like in the rest of the house now looks like a frozen lake, but without being slippery. 

But my favourite part is the ceiling.

It looks like the night sky, full of stars, and some of those stars hang over our hands. It reminds me of fireflies. 

I don’t know how she decorated the years before, but I’m pretty sure Daphne outdid herself with this. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

 _This_ is magic. It completely corresponds to the idea I had of what magic was before I became a mage and saw what it could truly be like. 

It’s out of a fairytale. 

**…**

**Baz**

Dev walks in with a cocky smile, but he stops to look at the decoration. I can’t blame him, Daphne can do very impressive things when she uses her magic. I think it’s a shame she doesn’t use it more, but it’s true she doesn’t have many reasons to. 

After taking in the sight for a few seconds, he resumes walking and sits next to me. Niall sat next to Simon to “save him from the burden of being next to Dev”, which I should be thankful for because I really don’t want my cousin too near my boyfriend, but at the same times it means that I’m the one having to put up with this imbecile and that’s really not something I’m glad about. 

He takes his seat, already putting his arm on the top of my chair and leaning close to me. “Basil, my favourite cousin, would you have the kindness to pass me the whiskey.”

“I’m your only cousin,” I say flatly before I turn to the person sitting next to me, namely, Anne, and ask her for the bottle. She passes it to me, and I pass it to Dev.

He pours himself a drink, swallows some of it, and then takes his phone -no, Niall’s phone- out of his pocket, dangling it in my face. 

“That’s my phone,” Niall comments as Dev unlocks it. 

“Yup. You take more pictures than I do. The more content, the more humiliated Baz can be.”

Niall doesn’t even try to hide his amused smile. Simon looks impatient, which makes things ten times worse. I thought at least _he_ would be on my side. 

As for my beloved cousin, he has a smirk on his lips as he goes to the gallery app, scrolling through it until he finds those damned pictures. Niall took so many of them, Aleister Crowley. 

Dev clicks on the first one chronologically, and then hands Snow the phone over the table.

“Here, have fun golden boy. Swipe left to see more, there are tons of pictures.”

The moments Simon lays his eyes on the phone, they go wide.

If he makes fun of me -past me- I’m going to hide in a hole and never come out of it ever again. The red hair wasn’t my brightest idea, but I truly liked how it looked. I would have kept it for more time if I wasn’t so against the idea of going back to school with dyed hair. 

“That looked so good on you!” Simon exclaims, looking at me with one of those adorable smiles of his.

Oh.

**…**

**Simon**

To be honest, when Dev said Baz had put red in his hair, I thought he meant that he had a few stripes of a red dark like blood that would sort of blend in with his natural hair colour but that’s not what it was _at all._

First of all, it was bright red. The purest shape of red you can think of. 

And it wasn’t just a few strands of hair. About a third of the length of his hair was dyed, from the tip.

I don’t know if I think it’s beautiful because it objectively is or just because Baz is stunning and I like dyed hair, but it’s really awesome. 

He has this look on his face that I’m sure means he would be blushing if he could. “Well, thank you.”

“No but really, it looked amazing Baz! Why did you change it? I never saw you like that! And when did you do it, by the way?”

“He doesn’t even think it’s ridiculous,” Dev mumbles to himself, seeming very disappointed.

Baz gives me a small smile. 

**…**

**Baz**

“It was during the summer after fourth year. Dev, Niall and I were staying at Niall’s for a while, with his sister…”

Simon interrupts me to speak to Niall. “You have a sister?”

“Yes. She was 23 at the time, so my mum thought her responsible enough to make sure we wouldn’t do stupid things.”

“But Alana is the coolest person on earth so she let us do all the bullshit we wanted,” Dev finishes, a gleam in his eyes.

He had a crush on Niall’s sister when we were 12. It was absolutely ridiculous and neither Niall nor I intend on letting him live that down. “Oh yes,” I saw, bumping his shoulder with mine. “Alana, wonderful Alana, beautiful Alana.”

“Shut up. She _is_ great. It’s not my fault they’re all so amazing in Niall’s family,” he says, giving Niall a disgusting flirtatious look. 

“If she wasn’t married, I’d be afraid you’d dump me for my sister,” Niall answer, trying -and failing- to hide his smile. 

“Never, darling.”

“Stop flirting, you two, I have a story to tell.” I clear my throat, looking back at Simon, focusing on him and not my two idiotic friends. “So we were at Niall’s with his sister, which pretty much means we had no real adult supervision, and I just decided out of nowhere that I wanted to dye my hair, so we went to the closest shop and bought bleach and hair dye, and we did that in Niall’s bathroom. Well, he did it, Dev criticized everything Niall was doing wrong, according to him, and laughed because he’s annoying and useless. I kept it all summer long, and then I cut my hair over the red part when school started again because I didn’t want to hear comments about it.”

“That’s sad. It really looked good. I don’t even like red in general but it’s very pretty on you.”

Merlin, will he stop complimenting this, I’m going to be driving to town on boxing day to buy bloody hair dye if he keeps the praise going. I have little to no self-control when it comes to pleasing Simon Snow, and he’s really enthusiastic about my dyed hair. 

“Snow, you’re truly a disappointment,” Dev says, shaking his head. “You were supposed to tell him he looked stupid.”

“He didn’t. He never does,” Simon says softly, before lowering his eyes on the phone again.

Dev pretends to gag. 

I see Simon scroll a few times, smiling at the pictures and showing some of them to Niall, who whispers little stories about when and where they were taken to him, and I feel like my heart is going to burst.

My boyfriend, looking fondly at old pictures of me while talking with my best friend like _they_ are friends. That’s so lovely. 

**…**

**Simon**

It feels so special, seeing all those pictures of a slightly younger version of Baz.

I knew him already when he was 15, of course, but I can barely associate the boy I’m watching on the screen with the boy who was my roommate. He doesn’t look cold or arrogant or mean on this pictures. He looks like my Baz. He just looks like a teenage boy, having fun with two of the people he loves the most. He looks like everything I thought Baz Pitch couldn’t be, back then.

Relaxed. Carefree. Happy.

Maybe that’s how Baz used to be like before… before everything that happened in the years after that.

If I remember what he told me, it’s at the end of this summer that he truly turned into a vampire and that his life started falling apart.

It breaks my heart to look at this boy with his red hair and his wide smiles and his bottle of beer and think that only a few months later, he would have alcohol in his hands, but not a smile on his face. That a year later, he’d be obsessing about seeing another kind of red on him. 

That he’d almost die. Twice. That he’d suffer and would probably never smile as bright as he did on those pictures for a very long time. 

**…**

**Baz**

The looks on Simon’s face become sadder. I don’t know why, I don’t think Niall would keep any truly sad picture on his phone.

He shakes his head slightly. It’s barely noticeable, but he doesn’t look sad anymore after he does. Maybe he was lost in his thoughts, then. I wonder what was on his mind, for his eyebrows to be furrowed like that. 

He swipes again, and his eyes go wide once more. Crowley, what has he seen this time.

“Your ears are pierced? How the hell did I never notice that?”

Merlin, Niall has pictures of that too? I’m cursed.

“Yes, they are. You never noticed because I almost never wear earrings anymore.”

“That’s a pity. It looks so cool too. Why did you stop looking so cool. I mean don’t get me wrong, you’re gorgeous, but why stop having dyed hair and wearing earrings?”

“You never compliment me like that,” Dev says, kicking Niall under the table. “Why aren’t you nice with me like Snow is with Baz?”

I ignore Niall’s answer.

I shrug. “I just wasn’t feeling like having any of those anymore. I don’t wear that much jewelry in general, and when I do, I prefer necklaces. As for the dyed hair, well… it was a good experience but I never really felt like doing it again.”

Simon nods. “Okay. Well, anyway, you looked amazing, so sorry Dev but I won’t be making fun of him,” he adds, looking at my cousin with an apologetic smile.

Beautiful moron.

“You suck, Snow,” Dev answers as he snatches Niall’s phone back from Simon, which is automatically followed by indignant sounds from Niall.

Children.

**…**

**Niall**

The beginning of the evening goes smoothly. The adults talk together, the kids do their best to stay seated and draw on the tablecloth once they’re given Daphne’s permission to do so to keep themselves occupied, the girl -Maya I think- is busy with her phone, Baz and Dev bicker like children, and surprisingly, I chat with Snow. He is sitting next to me, after all, and I don’t feel like barging in on Dev and Baz’s conversation. They like those banters. 

Snow doesn’t really talk that much, he mostly asks questions, but he seems genuinely interested by my answers, as mundane as they may be.

He asks me about my parents, because he’s intrigued that I only talked about my mum and not my father, then about my sister, and he looks very excited when I tell him she lives in Canada. He says he’s never been abroad, -which I could have guessed, everyone knows Snow’s an orphan, and the Mage is -was- to paranoid to leave the UK- and that he’s very interested in learning about other countries, so I share with him stories that my sister has told me.

Then he asks about what I want to do after school, and looks quite impressed when I tell him I want to be a surgeon -“You have to study for so many years!”.

When I ask what _he_ wants to do, he looks uncomfortable so I quickly brush the question aside. I think it’s a bit worrying that he still doesn’t know what he wants to do at 18, but after all, he’s still got some time, and in the worst of cases, well, he’s dating Baz. It’s not like he _needs_ to work to be able to have a roof over his head and food on his plate. The Pitches are filthy rich, and the Grimms have a generous amount of family money too. 

We’re waiting between the first course and the main course when Snow’s cheeks go red and he looks down at his hands, uneasy as he speaks, “Ok, so there’s a question I want to ask you, but uh, it might be offensive. Penny says a lot of things I say are offensive. I don’t realize. So, uh, if it is, just tell me to fuck off, okay?”

Now I’m a bit nervous about where this is going to go. 

“Go on.”

“Well,” he says, shifting in his seat. He’s speaking very low, I can barely hear him over the other conversations happening. “I mean… Bas has told me that the big thing about you know, gay couples, for the Families was that they… that _we_ can’t have children. Like biologically. So I guess that that must be part of the reason why Dev’s parents reacted the way they did when he told them about the two of you, because he needs to have an heir and keep the bloodline alive and all that bullshit. But… uh… I mean… Can’t… Can’t Dev and you, like, actually _have_ biological children? I mean… you know… since you…”

“Yeah, I get it,” I interrupt him before his embarrassment makes him explode. His whole face his red now, and he’s rubbing his neck nervously. Dev and Baz have fallen silent as Snow spoke, and I can feel their gazes on us. Dev’s, particularly. “You’re right, technically, we do have what’s necessary to make children,” I say, huffing out a laugh. I really wasn’t expecting this question, but I can understand Snow’s train of thoughts. It is, after all, something I’ve thought about a lot, and discussed with Dev. Having children. _Biological_ ones, because we both do want children, some time in the future. How we have them is another story. “But we won’t. As far as I can remember, the thought of being pregnant has always appalled me, and it’s even worse now that I know _why_ it sickens me.”

“Because women get pregnant and you’re not a woman?” Simon asks shyly.

I thought he would add an “anymore” at the end of his sentence. It seems like the kind of things Snow would do. I’m surprised that he doesn’t, but in a good way. Most people say that I’m not a girl _anymore_ and not that I’m not a girl, full stop.

“Exactly. So yeah, I want children, but not enough to put myself through that. It would be too challenging mentally, on top of how difficult a pregnancy can be physically.”

“And our kids would be way too beautiful for the world to handle if we made babies,” Dev adds immediately.

I give him a grateful look. I doesn’t make me uncomfortable to talk about this, but I’m not used to it because Baz is too shy to ask questions and Dev already asked pretty much everything he could ever think of asking, so it’s a bit strange, broaching the topic.

Simon seems relieved by Dev’s intervention as well, but he does look at me and say, still a blush on his face, “Okay. Thanks for answering. Sorry if it was rude.”

**…**

**Dev**

Merlin, thank Snow and his moronic questions. I love hearing Niall talk about having children with me.

Fuck, I can’t wait to see him be a dad. He’ll be amazing.

**…**

**Niall**

We keep talking, but about lighter topics, and Dev and Baz even join the conversation. It’s strangely casual.

I mean, talking with Dev and Baz is always casual. But I’m surprised by how easily Snow made himself fit in with us. We’re not exactly the same kind of people, and Penelope Bunce and Agatha Wellbelove aren’t exactly anything like Dev and I either. 

Times passes quickly when you talk, so soon enough, it’s almost midnight, and we’re waiting for the dessert.

We’re relaxed, chatting under those fake stars, and I feel so at peace. 

So of course, Dev has to go and create havoc.

**…**

**Dev**

He looks more beautiful than ever.

I don’t know if it’s the way the stars cast shadows on his face, or the lazy way he’s sitting on his chair, or the small smile on his lips, or the pink tint on his cheeks and gleam in his eyes put there by the champagne he drank, but Niall is gorgeous right now.

Fuck I still can’t believe he’d ever want to be with me. It’s true, Baz was around the whole time, he could have easily developed a crush on _him._ As much as I like teasing him, Baz _is_ hotter than me. Fucking Pitch genes. Those people are rich, powerful, _and_ beautiful, how unfair is that?

But for some reason, the Pitch charisma didn’t have an effect on Niall. For some reason, he chose _me_.

I hope he’ll keep choosing me, every day of his life. I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s a constant in my life, has been for years now.

“Niall,” I say as he’s in deep conversation with Baz about some nerdy thing, reaching over the table to tap his hand in order to get his attention.

He turns to me, giving me a smile that makes my head spin. “Yes, darling?”

Fuck him, honestly. I’ll never manage to do this if he makes me go all soft before I even start. 

“Would you mind coming with me? Somewhere private?”

He frowns, intrigued, but doesn’t say no.

We excuse ourselves, and I drag him outside, by the patio doors that I know are located in the room in front of this one. I’ve wandered this house enough to know it like it’s mine. 

I cast a spell on both of us so that we won’t freeze right before we step outside, and then I drag Niall deeper in the gardens. If he’s puzzled, he doesn’t ask any question.

I take him to my favourite spot, an old fountain that hasn’t seen water in decades. Ivy has grown on it. It looks beautiful, and a bit mysterious. 

Like Niall.

When I let go of his hand, he gives me an intrigued look.

I’m going to do it.

I can’t change my mind now. 

I can’t chicken out. 

We’re in a pretty place, with snow under our feet and stars over our head. It’s perfect. Not what I had originally planned, but it’s perfect. Typically the kind of romantic bullshit Niall loves. 

I’m going to do it.

**…**

**Niall**

I’m about to ask what’s going on, because really this is weird, and I want dessert, when Dev gets down on his knees.

No. 

Not his knees.

On _one_ knee. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you weren’t expecting that one were you?
> 
> alsooooo Niall being trans, it’s something that i headcanon but i havent had that headcanon for a long time, just a few weeks, because i was thinking about other projects i’ll never write, and he was trans in it and now i can’t not have niall be trans so yeah i just found a way to drop it in the story, very awkwardly i’ll give you that but it’s better than just putting ‘niall is trans lol’ in the tags i guess  
> but it’s annoying because when i started writing that story i didn’t have that headcanon and i wrote that one scene in a study in trust where dev gives him a blowjob so yeah i’m gonna have to go change or delete that lmao


	34. Chapter Thirty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> deniall chapter!!!

**Dev**

“Okay, so, you know I’m not the best at this romance shit, but you deserve to hear it, once in a while, so I’m going to try. Don’t make fun of me if it sucks.”

This was a terrible idea. My heart is racing in my chest, and Niall looks at me, eyes wide and mouth gaping “Dev…”

“Hush.” Well, that’s a good start. I clear my throat. “So. Niall.” I’m never going to say all the cute things one should say when proposing. I don’t know how to be sweet like that. “Fuck, mate, I love you. I love you so fucking much, it might ruin me. You make me so weak. When you look at me with your eyes all soft, it could turn me into a puddle. I want you to keep looking at me like that. I think it would kill me if you ever looked at another man with as much tenderness as you look at me. I want you to be mine. It’s a strange feeling really because I’ve never been very possessive but fuck, with you, it’s… it’s so intense, how much I want you to be mine, _need_ you to be mine. It’s selfish really, because you’re so kind and smart and beautiful, you could have someone so much better than me. But somehow you don’t want someone else. Somehow you want _me,_ and I know that and I feel so lucky and grateful to be the one who gets to call you my boyfriend because you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, because when everything else is shit, at least I know that I have you, and it makes it all a little bit better. But I want more than that. More than you being my _boyfriend_. I want us to be forever. I want our love to be set in stone. I… I want you to be my husband, Niall.” My hand is trembling when I reach for the ring in my pocket, about as much as Niall’s lip is. His eyes are full of tears when I bore mine into them. He’s taken off his contacts for dinner, because I asked him to. He looks so lovely, my heart is going to burst. 

“Will you marry me?” I eventually get out, voice quivering as I show him the right. The moonlight makes it shine. 

Niall shakes his head vigorously, a strangled “Yes.” escaping his lips, and this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

Yes.

He said yes.

He gives me his hand, and I put the ring around his finger as best as I can considering how much I’m shaking. 

Who knew it was so stressful proposing to the love of your life, huh? Certainly not me until five minutes ago. Terrible experience, 0/10, would not recommend.

Niall drops on the floor in front of me, grabbing the collar of my jacket and pulling me into a kiss. He slips his tongue inside my mouth, kissing me like it’s a battle he wants to win.

What can I do if not surrender?

**…**

**Niall**

Dev kisses me back with just as much passion, slinging his arm around my waist. I get closer to him, impossibly closer, so close that his knee gives out and we tumble in the snow. I just have time to put my hand behind his head to make sure it won’t hit the floor hard before he’s flat on his back and I’m sprawled on him. 

I keep kissing him.

I don’t want to stop kissing him.

Ever.

He asked me to marry him.

I can’t believe he asked me to marry him. 

I knew it was a possibility, we’ve talked about the fact that we both wanted to get married before, and I even have bought _him_ a ring, but it still left me completely dumbstruck that he would propose. 

I wasn’t expecting it so soon.

But my heart is beating faster than it ever has and pure joy is the only thing I can feel right now, so I definitely don’t have any kind of negative feelings about his proposal.

Eventually, I have to pull back to breathe, but I get to look at Dev’s eyes so it’s not so bad. 

“You’re crying…” I whisper, balancing myself awkwardly on top of him to be able to free one of my hands and wipe his cheeks with it.

“You’re my fiancé,” he says, emotion in his voice.

A smile grows on my face.

I’m Dev’s fiancé. He’s mine. We’re engaged.

I lower my face again, and I see him try to reach for my lips but I press them to his cheekbone instead, just under his left eyes. It’s a bit wet and salty from the tears he shed. I kiss him the same way on the other side, and then I bring my lips to him, kissing him slowly this time.

We have all the time in the world, after all.

We have forever

**…**

**Dev**

There’s something really wonderful about snogging the love of your life in the snow on Christmas Eve after you’ve just proposed to them. 10/10, would recommend. 

But eventually, the magic of the moment has to end. A **You’re getting warmer** doesn’t last very long, the snow has drenched the back of my clothes, and my teeth are starting to chatter, so I push Niall off of me gently. 

He must be cold too, because he doesn’t protest. 

He offers me his hand to help me up, and once I am, he brushes the snow off my clothes. 

“I would offer you my jacket to keep you warm,” I tell him as I put my arm around his waist, pulling him close before we start walking back inside. “But I’m afraid it’ll only make you colder.”

“I don’t need your jacket,” he says, shivering. “Just walk faster.”

I do.

He lets out a pleased sigh when we step inside, warmth surrounding us. Still, he rubs his hands together a couple of times, and then rubs his arms. I want to be the one rubbing him over his clothes to make him warm, but my wet clothes are sticking to my back and freezing me to the bone, so unfortunately, I have to keep my hands to myself.

I don’t trust myself with a spell to dry my suit, I’m still too overwhelmed from _proposing to Niall and him saying yes, fucking Merlin_ to cast a spell properly, so I peck his cheek as I say, “I’m going upstairs to change. You can go tell Baz we’re engaged if you want.”

Excitement sparks in his eyes when he hears that. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that. Put on pretty clothes, I’m going to miss the suit greatly if you don’t,” he answers, looking at me up and down with a smirk.

Fuck, I’m so in love with him. 

**…**

When I’m in the room, the rush of excitement that I’ve felt since Niall said yes starts subsiding and is replaced by a warm, comfortable feeling in my chest, that only intensifies when I see the bag he put his stuff in to stay overnight, thrown on the floor, and his pyjamas already discarded on the couch. It’s familial. It’s very Niall.

He isn’t even supposed to have unpacked yet, and he still somehow managed to start making a mess of things.

I walk towards his things and fold his pyjamas, putting them back on the couch neatly, and close his bag properly. I tried not to look inside, but I couldn’t help but notice the silly wrapping paper with my name written on it in permanent marker. Each year since he decided we should give each other Christmas presents, Niall has wrapped my and Baz’s presents with increasingly ridiculous gift wrap. 

My cold back reminds me that I’m not here to be disgustingly endeared by all the little things my boyfriend - _fiancé_ \- does, but to change. I make quick work of undressing, leaving my clothes on the floor for the moment. I’ll move them when I will no longer be freezing my arse. 

I walk to the bathroom to rub my back and legs with a towel, trying to warm myself up more than really dry myself, and then I’m back in the room, looking through my bag to find decent clothes, which is harder than it seems because the few clothes I keep -kept, I think bitterly- at my parents’ are clothes I’m not interested in wearing.

Eventually, after only finding pairs of jeans and bland shirts, I give up and decide to go steal something from Baz. We’re about the same size, I know I can squeeze into his clothes. 

I can’t believe only minutes ago I was living probably one of the most significant and happiest moments in my entire life and now I’m walking in my uncle’s house past midnight on Christmas Eve, only wearing underwear, to go borrow clothes from my cousin because I ruined mine rolling around in the snow with my boyfriend.

Christmas is really weird this year. 

**…**

**Baz**

I’m starting to worry that Niall and Dev may have decided to shag somewhere in my house between the main course and the dessert when Niall walks in the ballroom, beaming.

Well, maybe they did shag. His clothes look a bit messy and his hair is ruffled like someone ran their hands through it for a long time. Aleister Crowley. 

Strangely, he doesn’t go back to his seat next to Simon. Instead, he goes all the way around the table to stand next to _me_ , one hand on the chair Dev occupied before they left, and one hand behind his back. I’m almost expecting him to bow like an idiot, considering his position.

He doesn’t bow, though. He simply looks at me with that gleam in his eyes and huge grin on his face, very obviously excited about Merlin knows what. 

“Baz,” he eventually says.

His voice sounds different, but I can’t quite tell why.

“Niall.”

“Baz,” he says again, as if he _really_ needed to address me, despite the fact that he’s looking right at me and that I know it’s me he’s talking to -which doesn’t prevent Snow from looking at Niall curiously, though. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“I gathered. What is it? And where is Dev?”

“Changing. That’s not important.”

Changing?

Why would he need to change?

“Well, pray tell,” I say, looking at Niall expectantly. “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer. Not verbally, at least. Instead, he slowly moves the hand that’s behind his back to show it to me.

I frown, a bit confused as to why, until something shines and catches my attention.

Merlin and fucking Morgana.

**…**

**Niall**

Baz’s whole face changes the moment his eyes fall on the ring. His eyes go comically wide, for Baz, and his mouth hangs open for a second before he looks up, a surprised look in his eyes. “Dev proposed to you?”

The room falls silent, except for the children’s chatter. 

I nod, trying to stay in control of myself, but all I want is throw myself in Baz’s arms crying.

Dev proposed to me.

Dev asked me to be his husband. 

His _husband_ , Merlin. 

“He did,” I say in a high, very undignified voice, but it’s the best I can do not to scream like a madman.

I hear Snow say “Oh my God.” -his Normal swearing is really hilarious- and a few gasps, but the only reaction I’m interested in is Baz’s. He’s our best friend, both mine and Dev’s, he’s even family for Dev, telling him we’re getting married, even if he knew it already, that’s a fucking big deal. 

He looks completely dumbfounded. I can’t blame him, a proposal on Christmas Eve wasn’t exactly expected, but I thought maybe Dev had talked about it with Baz. It seems obvious he hasn’t.

Apparently, Baz has some of the same urges as me because I feel him wrap his arms around me in a crushing hug before I can even see him stand from his chair. “Congratulations,” he whispers in my ear, his voice soft. “I’m so happy for the two of you.”

I hug him back, burying my face in his shoulder to allow myself to shed some more tears. I cried a bit outside, of course, but I feel like I could spend the rest of the bloody night crying from how emotional I am right now.

Tonight really is nothing like how I expected it to be. I expected an awkward dinner, due to my and Snow’s presence around the table. I expected a few, more or less subtly, homophobic comments from Dev’s parents and grandparents. I expected shouts when someone would eventually snap and tell them to shut the fuck up.

I didn’t expect them not to be here because _I_ am here and I certainly didn’t expect Dev to propose. 

Baz eventually lets go of me, sitting back on his chair.

**…**

**Baz**

I glance at Simon and feel myself blush.

I can’t wait for the day Niall will hug _me_ because I got engaged. 

I know that Snow and I have only been together for around three months and that we’re not getting engaged anytime soon, but one can dream.

**…**

**Niall**

I thought that because there aren’t a lot of people here, and that two of the four adults couldn’t care less about the engagement, I could tell Baz about it in the ballroom without too much trouble.

I was wrong.

Malcolm, Daphne, and their guests are strangely invested in my getting engaged.

Daphne is by my side a few seconds after Baz let go of me, asking if she can hug me and looking at me like she’s genuinely happy for me, for us. She also asks to see my ring, so I show it to her, and she compliments it. It’s a pretty simple design, which is definitely to my taste, I’m not one for very extravagant things. A gold band, with a thin carved line going around the ring, in the middle, a tiny squared shaped diamond in the centre of it.

Then, which is _really weird_ , Malcolm clasps my shoulder, congratulating me.

Then, Daphne’s sister asks me to show my ring to her as well, and she starts bombarding me with questions about Dev and I.

It’s overwhelming, having all that attention on me, but in a good way.

I’m not mad when Dev comes back and the attention is split between the both of us, though.

**…**

**Dev**

Baz is hugging me very exactly two seconds after I walked in the room. “You fucker, you told me you’d propose at the Leavers Ball.”

That was the original plan. 

It would have been the best moment, to make it all romantic like Niall likes.

We met at school.

We became friends at school.

We fell in love at school.

Most of our relationship happened at school.

It would make sense that I’d ask him to be my husband at school, too. 

“I changed my mind. I needed more positive memories than my parents deciding they don’t have a son anymore to associate to Christmas Eve. I thought that proposing to Niall was a great way to make good memories,” I answer with a nervous laugh.

I know Niall would be upset if I told him that, and then he’d probably try to get me to talk about my parents again, which is why I’m only telling Baz, whispering in his ear before pulling back. 

“I suppose your literal _proposal_ is a great memory, indeed,” Baz says, completely unfazed by why I chose to propose now, as I thought he would be.

“You know what else will be great memories? All the sex we’ll have tonight as fiancés,” I say with a smirk, because if it gets too sappy I’m going to cry again.

Crying in front of Niall is something. Crying in a room with my family, adults I barely know, a bunch of little kids, my cousin and his boyfriend is an entirely different thing.

“You two are not having sex in my house,” Baz mumbles, thankfully low enough not to be overheard.

“Yes we are. And I’m not putting a silencing spell.”

“If you do that you’ll be sleeping in the bloody garden, Dev.”

“Lots of talk, no action,” I say, eventually moving away from Baz.

From the corner of my eyes, I can see Daphne staring at me. It doesn’t take her long to come and congratulate me, and tell me that if we need any help with organizing the wedding, when we’ll be up to that, she’d be delighted to lend a helping hand. 

I read in her eyes the things she’s not saying.

That she -well, she and uncle Malcolm- can help _financially_ if we need.

Niall’s family are comfortable, but not nearly as well-off as my parents, and it’s nothing compared to how rich Baz’s family are, and well, I’ve just been kicked out, so apart from the few hundred pounds I have saved, I don’t have much money either.

And that she’s here for us. Unlike my parents. That I can count on her, to organize the wedding, and to be here at the wedding.

The look uncle Malcolm gives me when he clasps my shoulder and say “Good man.” means pretty much the same thing.

That may make me cry again.

**…**

I don’t end up crying again, miraculously, and it’s only thanks to the fit of giggles Mordelia causes me to have. 

She asks me why everyone sounds so excited and I tell her I’m marrying Niall and the demonic child claps her hands excitedly, before stopping abruptly and asking me, looking very concerned, who’s going to wear a wedding dress since we’re both boys.

“No one will be wearing a wedding dress.”

She looks at me like I just killed her entire family in front of her eyes. 

“You can’t have a wedding without a pretty dress!” she exclaims.

“You could wear a pretty dress, to make up for Niall and I wearing suits, how about that?”

She considers the question, very seriously, furrowing her eyebrows.

She scares me sometimes, but she’s such a cute kid.

After a few seconds, she nods solemnly. “Okay, I’ll wear a pretty dress. I still think it’s weird you’d have a wedding and not a wedding dress.”

**…**

**Niall**

It takes some time before we’re all sitting around the table again, dessert served -thank magic.

“I was wondering,” I say, looking at Baz. “Did you know that Dev was going to propose?”

“I knew he had a ring for you, I was with him when he bought it,” he answers, cleaning his lips with his towel. He ate the whole meal with us. That’s quite impressive. “I didn’t know he was going to give it to you now, though.”

“You were with him? When was it?”

“During the summer.”

I look at him with more intensity. “Was it before or after _I_ asked you to help _me_ pick a ring.”

“You have a ring for me?” Dev chimes in, a small smile on his face.

“Of course I do. It’s been hidden behind my books at school since the beginning of the year.”

I did because I knew he would never in a million years touch my books.

He gives me a puzzled look. “You hid the engagement ring you bought for _me_ in _our_ room, that _we_ share? No offense babe, but that’s dumb.”

“Well, have you found it?” I ask with a smug smile.

**…**

**Dev**

Touché.

The bastard knows me too well.

**…**

**Niall**

Dev groans something unintelligible but that sounds an awful lot like “fuck you”, and I focus back on Baz.

“So, was it before or after?”

“After.”

“So I bought the ring first.”

“And yet who proposed, uh?” Dev intervenes again.

I ignore him, and go back to my cake, which is immensely more interesting than my boyfriend right now. 

**…**

“I have a question,” Baz says the moment he sees me put my spoon down.

“What is it?” 

“Are you going for Niall Grimm or Dev Hartley? Or hyphenated, maybe?”

Niall Grimm. Dev Hartley. Hearing the words warms my heart. 

His first name sounds so lovely with my family name, and mine with his.

I don’t see it, but I’m pretty sure Dev kicks Baz’s leg when he calls his name, to grab his attention ; “Basilton?” 

“What?”

“When was the last time someone called you Grimm-Pitch?”

I’d say that the reason why everyone calls him Pitch instead of his full last name is because of how important the Pitch line is, but I’m not going to mention that. 

Baz nods. “Good point. So, which one will it be?”

I glance at Dev. We never actually discussed that. It seems like the kind of stuff you do once you’re sure you’re going to get married. After an engagement, for instance.

But even if we never talked about it, I assumed I’d be the one taking his name. 

“Dev Hartley,” he answers, without an ounce of hesitation in his voice, making my heart miss a beat and my eyebrows shoot up. “I don’t want Niall to have my parents name, not after what they did, and anyway even before today, I’ve thought about this.” He looks away from Baz, to bore his eyes into mine. “I want to take your name.”


	35. Chapter Thirty Four

**Baz**

The rest of the night is much less eventful. We simply eat dessert and chat some more, but I know that soon Daphne will stand up and say it’s time to go to bed. 

The twins are practically falling asleep on the table already, and Mordelia isn’t much better, but she has been struggling to stay awake in an attempt to see Father Christmas. 

I was a little afraid that Thomas would ruin it for her and tell her that Father Christmas isn’t real, but his mother must have told him not to before they came because he plays along with her. 

So is Snow. 

Mordelia is sitting on his lap right now, cuddling up to him and talking with him.

“Do you think Father Christmas will know that you’re here to give you your presents?” she asks, looking up at him with her tired eyes. 

He strokes her cheek with his knuckles. 

“I don’t know, princess.”

“It would be sad if he didn’t. You should have sent him a letter to tell him!”

Simon smiles softly. “I didn’t think about it.”

“I think Father Christmas knows Simon is here,” I chime in, leaning towards them and propping my chin up on the back of my hand. Simon and I exchange an amused look. “There’s no need to worry, Mordy, really.”

She yawns. “I hope you’re right.”

I see Niall nudge Simon’s arm. “Say, Snow, did Father Christmas bring you things when you were little?” he whispers. 

Considering the care homes could barely feed all the kids well, I doubt they gave them Christmas presents. 

I hate to think about Simon’s childhood. It has been so unfairly difficult. It makes me feel like the spoiled brat he always said I was for complaining about  _ my  _ childhood. Yes, maybe my mother died and my father would rarely leave his room for years on end, but I lived in this ridiculously big house with all the toys I wished for, more clothes than I could ever wear, and always food on my plate. 

Discreetly, Simon shakes his head, looking at Niall, but when he opens his mouth, it’s to say that yes, he did, because Mordelia is still here and she wouldn’t understand why Father Christmas wouldn’t bring someone anything. 

I don’t even know if Simon got something from Christmas, since he was 11. He once told me the Mage sent him cards for his birthday, but for Christmas? I don’t think so. I know the Wellbelove gifted him some clothes, those were the only decent clothes he had when he first came here, and it seems like Bunce and him don’t exchange presents, so I suppose that his Christmases have remained being present-less. 

At least this year he’s getting things. This year, he experienced Christmas as I see it, with a family dinner and presents under the tree the morning after. Admittedly, Christmas was very particular this year, with Dev being kicked out and the proposal, but I think tonight is still more representative of the Christmas spirit than what Simon had experienced before. 

Mordelia yawns once again, burying herself deeper in Simon’s embrace. He glances at me when she nestles her head in the crook of his neck. 

I nod, and turn to Daphne, who’s in deep conversation with her sister. I clear my throat.

“Mum.”

That catches her attention immediately. She still has this faint smile on her face when I call her that. I still feel a little embarrassed when I do, but well, it’s not like my mother is going to come and scold me for calling another woman mum. Since my having a soul is still up to debate, I’m not even sure I’ll even be able to meet my mother in the afterlife, so she may  _ never  _ be able to scold me for calling another woman mum.

“Yes?”

“I think the little ones should go to sleep. It’s getting late.”

She hums in agreement. “You’re right. Father Christmas won’t come if they’re all up,” she adds playfully, glancing at Mordelia.

My sister doesn’t even say anything more than a groan in protestation, so I suppose she must really be tired.

“I’ll go put Mordy in bed,” Simon says when Daphne stands up. “She’s already with me, after all.” He strokes her cheek again with a tender look on his face, then he looks up at me. “Come with me?”

“Sure.”

He’s so careful as he handles Mordelia, getting up from his chair slowly and turning her in his arms so that she can put her legs on either side of his hips and her arms around his shoulders. It’s heartwarming.

When we first came here together, I would have never thought he’d be so good with the kids. Snow is clumsy, impatient, and he gets embarrassed when people talk to him. I didn’t imagine him carrying my sisters in his arms with care or chatting and playing with them, for hours on end sometimes, and yet, here we are.

I love that he’s kind with them, but it stings a bit. How am I supposed not to fantasize about having children of our own? 

The more I witness Simon interacting with my sisters, the bigger the desire to have kids grows in me. I hate it. 

I love children, and accepting that I’d never have them when I realized I was gay was hard enough. It’s even more painful now that I have someone I’d want to raise them with. 

Just to be sure, I put my hand behind Simon’s back when he climbs up the stairs. Mordelia isn’t that heavy, and he’s holding her well, but better safe than sorry.

Behind us, I can hear my parents’ footsteps. They must each have one of the twins in their arms. 

I open the door to Mordy’s room for Simon, and turn the lights on as he walks in. She’s dozing off on his shoulder. 

He puts her down on her bed, looking at me over her shoulder. 

“Do you know where her pyjamas are? That dress can’t be comfortable to sleep in.”

Good point. Her dress is glittery and puffy, definitely  _ not  _ comfortable. I walk towards her closet, taking the first warm pyjama I can find. It happens to be one she likes a lot, blue and fuzzy with clouds on it. 

Simon is kneeling in front of her, her shoes neatly put on the floor, and he’s pulling her tights down as Mordy just stays there with her eyes half open, not helping him in the slightest. When I put the pyjamas down on the bed next to her, Simon eventually manage to take her tights off, so I hand him the fuzzy trousers as he gives me the tights. 

Then he pulls down the zip of her dress and take it off as best as he can, once again giving it to me in exchange for her pyjama. I go discard her clothes in the laundry basket in the corner of her room, and when I come back, hair brush in hand, Simon is undoing her braids. I didn’t have to tell him to free her hair, and he didn’t have to tell me to get the brush. We just did. 

It shouldn’t make me feel so ridiculously warm inside how well we work together to put a half asleep child to bed. 

He lets me comb Mordelia’s hair once it’s down, putting her hair ties on the bedside table before walking around the bed to open the covers on the side of it Mordy and I are not currently sitting on. I take the hint and carry my sister there after brushing her hair, lying her down carefully. Simon pulls the covers over her and tucks her into bed. 

“Good night princess,” he tells her as he leans down to kiss her forehead.

“G’night,” she answers, her voice heavy with sleep, making him smile.

I kiss her goodnight too, and then Simon and I are on our way out, turning off the lights and closing the door behind us. 

**…**

My heart is still full of stupid  _ feelings _ as I watch Simon undress.

We’ve been undressing in the same room before bed more and more, instead of one of us going to the bathroom, but despite having seen Simon Snow naked a generous amount of times and having been the one to undress him multiple times, there’s something I find particularly private and intimate in the fact of changing together. We’re not taking our clothes off because we’re going to having sex, there’s no expectation for the hot feeling of his skin against mine in the near future. We’re just taking them off to put our pyjamas on and go to sleep.

Right now he’s pulling his shirt over his head instead of undoing the buttons like a civilized person, and I find myself endeared by the sight. It’s so Simon.

I’m still working on my own clothes at the same time, and I pull my trousers down when he does his. I’m quicker to put my pyjamas on, though. I get cold much too fast when I don’t have anything on me. I see Simon catch glimpses of me and it makes me smile. I’m not the only one enjoying the view.

Sometimes it still bewilders me to see that Simon Snow wants me. That he looks at my body and likes what he sees. I was so convinced he was straight for so long, I never thought a flat chest and the outline of a cock through pants could be something that attracts him. 

And well, there’s also the fact that my body isn’t exactly the nicest to look at. My ribs and hipbones show a bit too much, especially when I’m lying down, because I eat much less than a normal person would, and my legs are too long. It’s a blessing I play football, my legs would be too skinny if they weren’t muscled. 

Simon doesn’t seem to mind, though, and if he does, he never told me. He’s only ever been  _ very  _ positive when it came to the words he uses to describe my body, so I suppose we just don’t have the same tastes. I find bodies a little rounder around the edges more attractive to look at than skinny bodies like mine. I like seeing flesh, not bone, because I associate skinnier bodies to how Snow’s body looked when he came back from those care homes where he starved during the summer and that’s definitely not something that makes me horny.

The way Simon’s body looks  _ now  _ however…

His pyjama bottoms are slung low on his hips and all I want is to grab him just over his waistband, my fingers digging in the soft flesh as I pull him close. It would certainly leave marks. His skin marks so easily. Or maybe it’s just that it marks easily in comparison with mine, I don’t know. 

I shake my head. Pure thoughts. Simon’s head on my chest. Running my hand through his hair. Light goodnight kisses over the fabric of my shirt.

I finish putting my pyjamas on, avoiding looking at Snow because it turns out that the sight of him is too distracting, and then I join him in the bathroom to brush my teeth. We’ve been doing that together as well, recently, but that’s because Simon wants to make sure I’m brushing my teeth normally. The way he glances at me whenever he thinks I’m brushing too hard, like now, makes it very obvious. I slow my movements a little bit and he goes back to looking at himself in the mirror. 

Soon enough, we’re curled up in bed, the covers warming up thanks to Simon’s body heat. 

He’s warming  _ me  _ up too with his body heat. 

“When are we going to play Father Christmas?” he asks me as he slips his hand under my shirt, right over my waistband.

“Daphne will wake us up. She has an alarm set for 6:30. That should be soon enough for the girls to still be asleep. They’re usually too tired to wake up before 8 on Christmas day. We have to put the presents under the tree and then go back to sleep, because they like waking everyone up.”

He nods, and I feel him smile against my stomach.

“It’s the first time I really celebrate Christmas. I’m excited.”

**…**

I thought we were going to sleep but apparently Simon is in the mood to chat. I don’t mind. I hold those late night talks very dear. 

“So, your friends are engaged.”

A smile grows on my face as I think about it.

“They are. I’m very happy for them. They’re good together.”

“I don’t know them much, but I must say, they do seem to match. But… Isn’t it a bit soon? They’re only, what, 18? 19?” Snow asks, drawing circles on my stomach.

I can perfectly imagine the way his eyebrows must be furrowed right now.

I rub his back gently. “We’re mages, Simon. The wide majority of us are married before we’re 20, 25 for those who take their time.”

Like for many things, my parents were an exception in that way. My mother wanted her studies to be over with when she would consider getting married and start having children, or at least that’s what Fiona said, so they didn’t marry as young as people would have wanted them too, but they did get engaged young. When they were 19, Fiona said. 

“But your parents…” Simon says, moving his head to look at me, his chin digging in my stomach. “I mean, your dad and Daphne… Well, Daphne can’t have been in her early twenties when they got married, right? So did she just marry later than most mages or…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence but his meaning is clear. Or was she married before. 

**…**

**Simon**

I feel Baz tense underneath me.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my business what Daphne was up to before she married Baz’s dad. 

“Your right, Daphne was older than most when she got married with my father, because she had also already been married before.”

“Oh. Do you know what happened? With her previous husband, I mean?”

Did he die like Baz’s mum? 

“She divorced him,” Baz answers, an edge to his voice. 

“But, didn’t you say that divorce wasn’t a thing for mages because magic unions can only be broken by death?”

He looks surprised that I remembered what he said. It’s true my memory has never been great, but the things Baz tells me are somehow easier to remember than lectures. 

“That’s the thing, Daphne  _ could  _ divorce her ex husband because he was not a mage.”

I suck in a breath. “She married a Normal?”

I don’t know much about mages traditions and ways of life but I know that mages aren’t supposed to marry Normals. Most of them consider Normals inferior, anyway, so they wouldn’t want to marry them.

But Daphne does seem more open minded than certain mages, so I guess it was fine for her.

“Shocking, I know. She met him when she was young, at some bar she worked at to pay her rant, and she fell completely in love. She didn’t think twice and married him. It was a huge scandal for her parents, and they disowned her, which is why Anne is the only person from Daphne’s family who was here tonight. It’s not that her parents are dead, it’s that they don’t want anything to do with her since she married a Normal.”

“Even if now she’s married to a mage? That’s awful.”

Baz nods. I suppose that despite what he thinks of Normals, he can understand the unfairness of your family turning their back on you for who you love.

“But what happened, then, if she loved him so much she lost family over him? Why would she divorce him?”

**…**

**Baz**

Crowley, why did Snow use that brain of his, for once.

No, why did  _ I  _ mention mages marrying young.

He wouldn’t have thought to ask any of this if I hadn’t said that in the first place.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable.

How terrible can the reason why Daphne got a divorce be, to make  _ Baz  _ uncomfortable?

“He… Her husband wasn’t exactly who she thought he was. Her life with him was difficult… First of all she had to give up on her magic, because you can’t show Normals that we exist, but I think she could have handled that. No, the thing is…” He pauses, collecting himself. I’m a bit afraid to hear what he’ll say next, honestly. Fuck, I shouldn’t have asked. “He was abusive.”

“Abusive?” I ask, frowning.

I heard that word so much, when I was little, at the care homes. Abusive parents. Abusive family. Abusive, abusive, abusive. It never had a clear meaning. 

Some of the kids looked like they hadn’t eaten in a while. Some had black eyes and bruises. Some flinched when you talked too loudly. Some even looked fine.

“He hit her, Snow, how clearer can I be?” Baz says shortly, tenseness in his voice to match how tense his body is. 

“Oh my God,” I say under my breath as my stomach drops.

I really don’t like the turn this conversation has taken. Why the fuck did I ask all of this? 

Serves me right to be curious.

After a second, Baz’s hand becomes softer on my back, going up to my hair to play with my curls, something that is soothing both for myself and for him. 

“I know that because Anne told me so,” Baz says. “Daphne never talks about it, so don’t ever mention it to her, alright? As you can guess, it’s a topic that upsets her. You wouldn’t want to upset Daphne, would you?”

I shake my head.

“No, of course. God, that’s so terrible.”

I can’t believe this. I can’t believe someone would marry someone else and then… do that to them. If you get married, it’s because you love the person, why would you ever want to… hit them? 

When I think of all the times I hurt Baz physically when I still thought I hated him, it makes me sick. I can’t  _ imagine  _ doing any of it to him now…

And doing this to  _ Daphne. _

She’s probably the kindest, sweetest person I know, along with Ebb. How could anyone ever hurt her?

At least she got out of this relationship. 

“She’s okay now,” Baz says with that voice he uses to calm me down. “My father is good to her.”

**…**

**Baz**

My father has many flaws, but he’s exemplary with Daphne. 

**…**

**Simon**

Baz then starts talking about something else, completely changing the topic. It takes some time for the lump in my throat to be gone, but to the sound of Baz’s voice ranting about one of those books he loves, I eventually fall asleep.

**…**

**Baz**

Once Simon’s breathing is deep and regular, and he isn’t moving as much as before, I stop talking. 

I hope he’ll do as I say and keep his mouth shut about this. There’s a reason we don’t talk about certain things in this house. 

I let myself enjoy Snow’s warm presence a little longer, listening to his breathing, until I fall asleep myself.

I don’t think about casting  **Sweet dreams** .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things were being too soft and light, I had to drop something not soft and light in here  
> jk, Daphne’s past is something I’ve wanted to put in the story for a while but I didn’t want Simon to ask Daphne directly so I had to find a way to make Baz talk about it  
> the way I’m so obsessed with Daphne I could write a whole story about her (and Malcolm) please I have a problem—  
> like she’s mentioned maybe 3 times in canon and I have just gone a created a whole character from that, someone stop me


	36. Chapter Thirty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already posted a chapter earlier today (well, yesterday) (well lAsT yEaR) so make sure you’ve read that one before reading this chapter ^^  
> And happy new year! I don’t think it’s 2021 for everyone as I post this, but it is for me

**Baz**

I wake up with a jerk and a bitter taste in the back of my throat.

Fuck it.

The _one_ night I forget the spell, I have to have a bloody nightmare. And Snow is with me, on top of that. His face fell on my lap when my nightmare made me jump, and it’s truly a miracle he hasn’t woken up. Nonetheless, I can tell by his breathing that he’s close to, so I’m careful when I move him from me with shaky hands. I don’t want to wake him up because of my bullshit. I know he doesn’t sleep well at night either, even though he hasn’t woken me up yet, though I don’t know if it’s because he hasn’t had a nightmare since I came back, or because I sleep too deeply to wake up. 

I get out of bed, and walk as discreetly as I can to the bathroom, avoiding the spots on the floor that tend to creak particularly loudly, and closing the door behind me, then I rush to the bathroom counter and grab my toothbrush and toothpaste.

But as I pour toothpaste on the brush, I hesitate.

Simon said I didn’t need to do that. 

He said I wasn’t dirty. 

He would be disappointed if I did.

But how would he know, after all? He’s asleep. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. 

I start bringing the toothbrush to my lips, the bitter taste in my mouth growing more unbearable each second, when I hear the door open.

I jump, almost dropping what I have in my hands, and turn to the intruder. 

Simon, of course, his eyes still half closed. He flinches and groans when the merciless bright lights of the bathroom hit his tired eyes.

He blinks a few times while I’m completely frozen, and then, when he regains his ability to see properly, he looks back and forth between the toothbrush and my face.

He lets out a loud sigh, and my heart clenches.

I’ve disappointed him. 

**…**

**Simon**

It breaks my heart to see him like that. It’s quite obvious what’s going on, now that I know about that thing he does, brushing his teeth super hard because he feels…

That’s bullshit.

I’m so fucking mad he feels like that. Fucking Roman. 

I walk towards him, gently putting my hands over his. “Baz, please. You don’t need that,” I say, just as softly. 

The look in his eyes screams that yes, he does. I draw circles on his hands with my thumbs. “Please.”

**…**

**Baz**

I can’t disappoint him more. I have to put them down.

But my mouth feels so gross.

And it’s just bloody toothpaste, it can’t hurt me.

But Simon is looking at me with those pleading eyes, hair ruffled and in his pyjamas, woken up in the middle of the night because of me. 

I can’t make it worse. 

I have to stop and let him go back to bed. I’ve already bothered him enough when I moved him around. 

Slowly, I lower my hands until they’re resting on the bathroom counter, and I loosen my hold on the toothbrush and toothpaste. Simon’s hands are still over mine. When I look up at him, I see that he’s smiling.

“Thank you,” he says as one of his hands goes up to rest on my cheek. “Do you mind if I kiss you?”

He has this playful gleam in his eyes that gives me butterflies. Crowley, I’m so weak for him.

“I never mind,” I answer, my gaze dropping to his lips. 

They’re chapped, because Snow doesn’t understand the very simple concept of using chapstick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to press mine against them. 

He’s the one who pressed his lips against mine. I relish their roughness, balanced by how soft his tongue feels on my own lips, asking for an access to my mouth that I gladly give him. 

As Simon licks into my mouth, this strange, familiar taste filling my tastebuds, I don’t feel so gross anymore. 

**…**

**Simon**

I’ll admit it, there are sexier spots to snog your boyfriend than his bathroom after he had a nightmare, but it’s still pretty nice.

And I even got him not to brush his teeth without him putting up too much of a fight. 

I manœuvre him so that his back is to the bathroom counter. He hops on it, and I feel him wince against my lips when his butt touches the cold marble through his clothes. 

I smile, and make him spread his legs further so that I can stand between his thighs.

When I pull back, I immediately move my lips to his neck, sucking a love bite that won’t last and drinking in Baz’s pleased sighs and soft whimpers.

I slip my hands under his shirt when I move back, and he leans into the touch as the coolness of his skin soothes me. Even now that I’m not burning hot all the time, I still enjoy the feeling of his skin under my fingers. I also love feeling him warm up thanks to my body heat.

The barely there mark on Baz’s neck brings a smile to my lips. 

God, I wish my hickeys stayed. What I would give to see Baz go downstairs tomorrow morning with a love bite. 

But since that won’t happen, I simply keep biting and licking and sucking his neck and running my hands up and down his back until he’s fully relaxed under my touch. 

Then, I bring my lips to his ear. “Wanna go play Father Christmas? Since we’re up.” 

He hums. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

I step back and he hops off the counter, readjusting his pyjamas before following me to the room.

**…**

Baz has to go back to his room twice to bring down all of the presents he got. It makes me feel bad. I only have one present for him, and one of each of the girls. I don’t even have anything for his parents. 

**…**

**Baz**

I’m putting down the last present I bought when I notice the sad look on Simon’s face.

“Is something the matter?” I ask him, still crouching in front of the tree. 

“It’s stupid,” he answers immediately, shaking his head slightly.

I stand up. “Love, tell me. It’s not stupid if it’s upsetting you.”

He wraps his arms around himself. “It’s just… You got so many things and all I have are those 5 stupid presents. I don’t even have something for Daphne and your dad which is so ungrateful because they’ve let me stay here and they’ve taken care of me and I’m sure Daphne got me something and…”

“Simon,” I interrupt him. “Shut up. It doesn’t matter.” I step closer to him, taking his hands in mine. “My parents are not expecting you to get them anything. Merlin, I’m sure they’re not even expecting you to get the girls something, and you still did. You don’t… You’re not ungrateful for not getting them something. It’s just silly Christmas presents.”

“But…”

“But nothing. If it bothers you so much that you don’t have anything for them…” I say as I walk back to the tree, grabbing the bag with my parents’ presents in it.

Earrings for Daphne, because she must be sick of wearing the same pair of studs since Octavia was born, and some old, rare book about magic that miraculously isn’t in our library for my father, because it’s _hard_ to find something for my father. Then, I head to my father’s office to grab a pen, Simon following me curiously.

Once I’m there, I open the pen and show Simon the sticker where my parents’ names are written next to “to” and my own name next to “from”. I add “and” next to my name, and hand him the pen. “Here, put your name.”

“I didn’t buy it. I don’t even know what it is.”

“Do you think my father knows what half of the presents Daphne wrote his name on are? Come on, write your name. It’s a joint gift. Couples give joint gifts all the time.”

I feel stupidly happy saying it. I’m really into the idea of giving a present from _Baz and Simon_. 

Snow doesn’t seem convinced, but he does take the pen and add his name, in that messy handwriting of his. 

“My handwriting looks like shit next to yours,” he mumbles as he gives me back both the bag and the pen. 

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s go put that back under the tree,” I tell him, offering him my free hand.

He takes it, and I drag him to the living room.

“By the way,” he says. “Shouldn’t you not write who the present if from, you know, since the kids still believe in Father Christmas.”

“I only wrote it on the presents I made for adults, those that are concealed until the little ones have opened theirs and are too busy playing with their new toys to care. Don’t worry, I didn’t write ‘from Baz’ on Mordy’s presents, I’m not that daft.” I say as I drop the bag where it was before I took it.

I untuck my wand from the waistband of my trousers, casting a concealment spell on the presents I just told Snow about.

“See?” I tell him when I tuck my wand back. “They’re hidden. They won’t spoil Christmas for the children.”

He hums. “That’s smart.”

“Of course it’s smart, it’s my idea.”

He huffs out a laugh at that. “Arrogant prick.”

“And yet you love me,” I say with a smirk.

**…**

**Simon**

“And yet I love you,” I answer as I hook my arm around his neck, getting on my tiptoes to kiss this stupid smirk off his face. 

**…**

**Baz**

Merlin, how much I love it when Simon gets on his tiptoes to kiss me. I like when he gets impatient and grabs my collar to pull me down, but it’s so sweet when he’s like that, clinging to me because he has no balance. Snow was only ever graceful when he swung around that sword of his. 

I hold onto his hips, keeping him stable. 

When his lips aren’t on mine anymore, I trace his bottom lip with my thumb, looking at him.

He’s so beautiful like that, in the colourful lights of the Christmas tree. It’s like a rainbow all over his face. 

“Fancy a dance?”

I don’t even realize I said it until it’s out of my mouth.

Simon looks at me curiously.

“I can’t dance.”

“I don’t care. Dance with me,” I insist, wrapping an arm around his waist and taking one of his hands in mine. “No one’s watching, it doesn’t matter if you make a fool of yourself.”

“We don’t even have music.”

“We don’t need it. You said it, you can’t dance. Music wouldn’t help. Just let me guide you.”

He eventually gives in, nodding. “Okay.”

And so we start swinging in place, Simon trying to follow my movements as best as he can. He steps on my foot and we laugh. I pull him closer and kiss his cheek, before starting to dance again, to the sound of a song that’s only playing in my head. 

**…**

**Simon**

As I let him move me around, I rest my head on Baz’s shoulder, breathing in but not smelling anything except for the faint smell of the laundry detergent.

It’s so late, his perfume has faded. 

It’s still strange, not to smell cedar and bergamot when I smell Baz, I’m so used to it, I’ve associated the odour with him. But I don’t need the perfume to know it’s Baz and feel safe.

The slow pulse I can feel against my chest when I focus hard enough. The cold hand in mine. The sturdy fingers holding my hip. It’s all familiar. It’s all Baz.

After a few seconds, I hear him hum something. It’s low, he probably doesn’t even realize he’s saying it, but when I catch the words that fall from his lips, warmth course through me.

It’s a song. 

“Take my hand, take my whole life too for I can't help falling in love with you”

**…**

**Baz**

I feel Simon’s lips against my neck, and there’s some vibration to the kiss. It makes me realize that I’m singing.

I feel all the blood I have in me rush to my cheeks. Crowley, that wasn’t planned. Snow won’t stop making fun of me for how cheesy I am after that. 

“Why did you stop singing?” he mumbles.

“I wasn’t singing,” I answer right away, making my voice as confident as I can.

I can’t believe I let myself sing such a song while I was dancing with Snow. I’m a lost cause. 

“Yes you were.” He uses the hand that was previously resting on my shoulder, close to his head, to play with the hair at the base of my neck. “It was lovely.”

We’re not dancing anymore, just holding each other in the Christmas tree lights.

“The song was over anyway.”

“Hm. Pity,” he says, before he lets out a yawn.

I smile fondly. “Tired, love?”

“Well, it’s like 4 in the morning and I haven’t slept much. So yeah, I’m a bit tired,” he admits, cuddling up to me more, his nose pressed to the crook of my neck.

It makes his cheek be pressed against my bite marks. I try not to let that bother me. I’m working on letting Simon touch those scars, but it’s difficult. 

“Shall we go back to bed, then?”

“Will you be able to sleep?”

Probably not.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

He yawns again.

“You’re tired. Let’s go back to bed. I’ll distract myself.”

“Or we could watch a movie or something,” he suggests, as stubborn as always.

“ _We_ won’t watch a movie. Maybe _I_ will, but you, Simon Snow, will sleep. Do I need to remind you that my charming aunt is coming for lunch? You’re going to need all of your energy to survive that.”

He groans. He really isn’t delighted with Fiona’s visits. She scares him, I think. He isn’t afraid of my father anymore because they’ve spent time together, but he’s seen Fiona a total of two times since we got together. I would be afraid too, honestly.

 _I am_ afraid too, honestly. She was cross with me, last time we spoke. For all I know, she’s still angry and she’s going to be awful tomorrow -well, today, really.

“Okay, let’s go to bed. But try sleeping too, okay? You need sleep as well.”

“How do you know? I’m a vampire. Maybe I don’t need to sleep.”

I can’t see it but I’m sure he’s rolling his eyes at me.

“You do need to sleep, and I know it. Stop being a prick and take me to bed.” 

I snort. “As you wish, my love,” I say as I let my hand wander down, squeezing his arse over the thin fabric of his pyjama bottoms.

I know it’s not what he means but it’s fun teasing him.

“Not like that, you pervert!” Snow shouts, scandalized.

**…**

We’re back in the position we were when we fell asleep the first time, except for the fact that Simon is rubbing my stomach instead of resting his hand over my waistband. That means he wants to talk, not sleep.

Merlin, he’s impossible. 

After a few minutes of this, he still hasn’t said anything, so I snap. “What is it?”

He looks up at me, biting his lip. “I wanted to ask you… your nightmares… don’t… don’t you want to… you know, talk about it? You don’t have to of course but, I thought maybe it could help to… share with someone.”

How thoughtful of him. 

“I don’t think there’s anything about my nightmares that you want me to share with you, love. It will upset you.”

He beat Roman up just because he heard me cry, without really knowing the specifics of what happened and how I feel about it. It would make him too angry.

“Don’t think about that. If _you_ think talking could help, I want you to talk to me, even if it upsets me. I want to be here for you.”

**…**

**Simon**

Baz shifts slightly, positioning himself more comfortably. I have to adjust my own position too, while continuing to stroke his stomach. He likes those belly rubs a lot, and I can’t say there’s no appeal to feeling his abs under my fingers. 

He lets out a heavy sigh, and I half expect him to just ignore what I said and pretend to go to sleep, but instead, he starts talking. 

“As you know, I got my memories from Trixie’s party back, to be able to tell Mrs Bunce all about it.”

I nod. 

“Before she broke the spell, she checked if I was sure I wanted the memories back. I said I was. And I was, truly. At this very moment, all I wanted was for my memories to be back. Not knowing what had happened to me… it was torture. I had to find out. _Needed_ to find out. I was convinced that knowing could only be better than not knowing. Now, I’m not sure that’s true. It’s… When you break a memory spell, you see your memories, like it’s all happening over again, except for the fact that you don’t physically relive it, of course. And my nightmares, it’s just that night happening all over again, like it did when the spell broke, and I always wake up at the same time, when he… when he…”

His voice breaks and the words stay stuck in his throat, but I’m pretty sure I understand. I’m not that stupid.

“It’s okay, I get it,” I tell him, making my voice soft. 

“It’s so awful, Simon. It… I feel so… _violated._ He… He _used_ me.” There are tears in his voice. I stopped looking at his face when he started talking the first time, but I’m sure he has tears on his cheeks too. It makes me want to find Roman, wherever he is, and break every fucking bone in his goddamn body. “I hate this, I hate how it feels,” Baz continues, a sob escaping his lips. I move my arm that’s on his stomach to be able to hold him, giving him some kind of strange, side hug. 

“I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry,” I say, because I don’t bloody know what else to say, pressing a kiss to his stomach. “If there’s anything I can do…”

“You’re already helping enough just by being here,” he interrupts me, sniffing. “I… I don’t really know what I need to get better, if I’m being honest. But if… if I figure it out and I see a way in which you could help me, I’ll tell you. For now… I think I need time.”

Yeah, I can understand that.

“Okay. I won’t bring it up again, if you want.”

“I’d like that, yes.”

“Okay, then. But I’m here if _you_ want to bring it up. I’m always here for you, Baz.”

He sniffles, but I don’t think it’s because of his nightmare this time. 


	37. Chapter Thirty Six

**Baz**

As I expected, I wasn’t able to fall asleep again, so when Mordelia barges in my room to wake Simon and I up, I’m already awake to see it.

She seems disappointed, so I point at Simon, a finger on my lips, and I whisper. “He’s still asleep. Do you help waking him up?”

She nods vigorously, a grin on her face as she crosses the room on her tiptoes. She climbs on my side of the bed, where I’m still lying down. It would be difficult sitting up with Simon Snow clinging to me like that. I wouldn’t want to bother the Chosen One. 

Once she’s also half lying on me, Mordelia kisses my cheek and then whispers in my ear. “Why are you cuddling if he’s asleep?”

Well, that’s not what I thought she was going to say. I expected some evil plan to wake Simon up. 

“We sleep like that.”

“Weird.”

“Don’t you hug your teddy bears to sleep? It’s the same thing.”

She looks at me like I said something particularly stupid. You would think that a 7-year-old child couldn’t master judgmental gazes. 

“No it’s not. You’re Baz, you’re not a teddy bear. You’re not fluffy and you’re too tall.”

I snort at that. Merlin, I love children.

“Whatever. Didn’t you come here for a purpose?”

Her eyes become determined and serious. It makes me want to kiss her all over her cute face. 

“How do you suggest we wake him up?” I ask her, glancing at Simon, who is still sound asleep with his head on my chest.

“Is he ticklish?” she asks with a mischievous smile.

I smile back, moving my hand that’s on Snow’s hand to his ribs.

I exchange a glance with Mordelia, and wait for her to nod to start tickling him.

He groans and moves, trying to escape that annoying contact, but I just tickle him harder as Mordy giggles, her hands pressed to her mouth. 

Eventually, Simon opens his eyes, mumbling “What the fuck, Baz.”

I stop moving my hand, caressing his side instead. “Hello, love.”

“It’s time to see what Father Christmas brought!” Mordelia shouts, grabbing Simon’s hand and tugging on it to force him to sit up.

He groans some more, but he does sit up, giving Mordelia a sweet smile. “We’re coming princess, you can go downstairs.”

“I can’t! I have to wake up Dev and Niall first.”

Merlin, let’s pray they don’t sleep naked. I would want my little sister to be traumatized. 

I’m not going to stop her though. I want to see Niall’s face after being woken up at the crack of dawn by an over excited Mordelia. 

I watch her run out of my run out of my room, a smile on my face, and then I turn to Snow. He’s looking at me from over his shoulder. “We’d better head downstairs if we don’t want Mordelia to come again.”

“You’re right.”

And with that, I roll out of bed.

It takes Simon more time. He just woke up, after all. I go looking for a pair of socks to put on while he comes awake and gets himself up on his feet. 

As we walk out of the room, he grabs that blasted cardigan from where he left it, over the backrest of the couch, and once he put it on, we can leave the room. 

I smirk as I pass by Dev and Niall’s room and hear my sister’s high voice and irritated groans.

Neither of them is a morning person, but Niall isn’t someone you should talk to for at least 30 minutes after he woke up. He is most definitely not enjoying Mordy’s excited screams.

**…**

Simon is as cheerful as the kids as they open their presents. It’s adorable.

At some point, Mordelia comes to him with a Barbie doll in her hands, asking him if he can get the doll out of the box for her. He smiles at her and says she can go open her other presents and he’ll deal with that. 

Then he comes to me, an hesitant look on his face. When he’s close enough, he whispers “That’s the thing I got her. Do you think she liked it? Little girls like Barbie dolls, right? And it’s a mermaid, mermaids are cool, aren’t they?”

I can hear the faint nervousness in his voice.

“I’m sure she loved it, Simon,” I answer with a reassuring smile. “Do you want help getting it out of the box?”

He shrugs. “How difficult can it be?”

**…**

Not even a minute later, he comes asking for my help to get the Barbie out of the box.

“Why do they put all those stupid strings,” he groans as I go grab one of the pairs of scissors Daphne brought to the living room for this exact reason.

I hold the doll and make sure her hair isn’t too close to the blades as Simon cuts through the ties making the doll stick to the box.

He lets out a breath when he eventually frees the mermaid, like he just did something particularly difficult and trying.

When Mordy comes back for her doll, though, he’s smiling again.

“That’s a cool Barbie Father Christmas brought you,” I tell her.

She’s touching the scales of the mermaid’s tale, mesmerized. “Yes! Look, she’s a mermaid!” she exclaims, putting her arm up as high as she can to show me her doll.

I see Simon relax next to me, relieved that Mordelia likes her present.

**…**

It takes some time for the little ones to go through all of their present, shouting excitedly and showing them off, but then, my father tells them it’s time they go put their new toys in their rooms and play with them there, so they disappear. Maya and Thomas got their presents at the same time as the girls, so they’re also gone somewhere in the house, not caring much about what’s happening here.

It’s time for _our_ presents now.

I’m starting to feel nervous.

I knew I couldn’t mess up the girls presents, contrary to what one may think, they’re not spoiled so they’re always happy to get something and aren’t ungrateful about what they get. 

Simon’s presents are another story. 

I tried not to buy him too many things because I know me spending a lot of money for him makes him uncomfortable, but I still got him a few things, and I’m afraid he’ll think it’s too much and be embarrassed that he didn’t get me as much.

I truly don’t care. He could have not gifted me anything, and I would have been happy no matter what. Having him by my side is enough of a gift, honestly, after all of those dreams dreaming of his hand on mine.

We decide to exchange our gifts once we've already given and received those to and from everyone else, so that we could open them in private. It’s not that I don’t want my family to see what I got Simon, but it’s our first Christmas together, one of the first Christmas Simon gets presents, I want it to be a special moment. That won’t happen with Dev making fun of my cheesiness and Daphne trying to catch glimpses of the presents because she’s curious like that. 

So I patiently give and open presents, smiling and saying thank you, until I can _finally_ collect Simon’s presents under the tree and go upstairs with him.

**…**

**Simon**

I’m not sure I can handle receiving another present right now. 

First of all Mordelia gave me a little origami dragon she made for me because “you’re always talking about dragons in your stories” which was already too much, but then Daphne _also_ got me something, and even though I expected it it was still overwhelming because it was a gift for _me_ , not like the clothes Mrs Wellbelove offered me just because she didn’t want me to look like a peasant in her house. 

It’s a cookbook that Daphne got me. A bloody cookbook. I mean it makes sense. I’ve been asking her to teach me how to cook, and Baz, this traitor, talked about my attempt to cook for him to his parents, which was really embarrassing. Daphne joked about Baz needing to be fed when we’ll move in together as I opened my present, and it made me feel all warm inside.

And fuck, even _Malcolm_ got me something. A watch, because he says that’s an important item to own, even if my phone is perfectly capable of giving me the time. 

Which is why I don’t think I’m going to be able to receive another present without bursting into tears. It was all very overwhelming already, and I’m sure Baz’s presents will be even more. He’s kind of cheesy, that bloke, I’m sure he found presents that he got for reasons that are going to make me want to cry. 

**…**

**Baz**

“So… do you want me to give your presents first or do you want me to open mine first?” I ask, because we’ve been sitting on my bed for a minute with the presents around us and none of us is doing anything. 

He immediately picks up the present he got me and drops it on my lap. “It’s not much but…” he says hurriedly, not looking at me.

“Hush. Whatever it is, it’s perfect.”

He laughs nervously. “Yeah. If you say so. Come on, open it.”

I look down at the package. It’s quite big, and wrapped messily in the same paper as my sister’s gifts were. There’s a lot of tape everywhere, probably because Snow doesn’t know how to wrap a present properly. It’s so cute. 

I start tearing the gift wrap, under Simon’s scrutinizing gaze. 

Stuffed animals.

Two of them. A black cat, that looks extremely haughty and bored -I don’t know how a stuffed animal can convey those emotions, but somehow, it can- and a tabby cat, whose ear has been patched up. 

“At first I wanted to get you some nerd thing like a book or something but then when Daphne and I went to the toy shop for the girls I saw the black cat and it reminded me of you because it looks like it would call me a moron if it could talk so I thought I’d buy it for you and… uh… since it’s a little Baz I thought I’d find him a little Simon and the only other cat stuffy that looked cute in my opinion was this little guy so I chose him. I asked Daphne to cast a spell on him so that his eyes would look blue so that he’d look more like me, you know? Oh, and his ear is like that because I accidentally left him on the floor while I was wrapping the gifts and Octavia ripped it off so Daphne had to sew it back on.” 

He said all of this very quickly, staring at the bedsheets like they’re the most fascinating thing in the world, his cheeks growing redder and redder as his voice became more and more hesitant.

I want to snog the life out of him.

He bought me stuffed animals. A little Baz and a little Simon, in his own words.

“I love them, Simon,” I tell him honestly.

I’m sure he can tell I’m not lying. There’s a bit more emotion than I would have liked to show in my voice. 

He laughs again, relieved. “Great.” 

Then, without a warning, he takes little Simon from me and shows me the collar around his neck. There’s this little felt medallion with a paw on it, that Simon turns around before shoving the cat back in my hands. 

There, in permanent marker, he wrote “I ❤️ you”.

“It’s a little me, so you know, he loves you to. And… uh… I thought that maybe… you’d take then with you at school and you know, it’d be a little reminder that I love you, when you miss me but… forget it that was a stupid idea you’re not going to take stuffed animals to school of course what was I thinking.”

He’s rambling again. I wish he wasn’t so scared that I’m going to judge him for the things he thinks and says. I know that it’s my fault, I called every idea that came out of his mouth stupid for years, but it makes my heart clench to see that he still fears me making fun of him. 

I take both cats in my arms and hold them close to me, in a possessive way. “If you think I’m not taking little Baz and little Simon with me you’re dead wrong. They’re mine, they’re staying with me.”

His face breaks into a grin, this wide, bright kind of smiles that never fail to warm my heart.

**…**

**Simon**

He likes the cats.

Thank Merlin, he likes the bloody cats.

I was really scared he’d think it’d a dumb gift. He’s Baz Pitch, after all, two stuffed animals definitely aren’t the kind of presents he’s used to or expects. 

**…**

**Baz**

“Now your turn,” I tell him as I put the cat downs, next to each other, like they’re cuddling.

“Basilton, are the cats hugging,” he asks immediately, amusement in his voice, ignoring what I said. 

“Yes. They’re in love, Snow, leave them be.”

He attempts to give me a smirk. “Oh, they’re in love now?” 

“Well, they’re us, aren’t they?”

He blushes. 

“Come on, open your presents,” I say as I hand him a package.

I see him eye another package, the bigger one. Too bad for him, that’s the one I want him to open last.

He takes the one I gave him, and tears the paper carefully. 

**…**

**Simon**

It’s a CD.

No, not _a_ CD, multiple CDs.

Baz owns a lot of them himself, and vinyls too. He mostly listens to music on his phone because it’s more practical but he says it’s important for him to also own the physical version of albums he really enjoys. So I guess that’s why he got me those.

He made me download spotify on my phone and he can see what I listen to, so that’s how he must have known what to get me because the albums he bought are all albums I’ve been listening to a lot, except for one. 

“Thank you, that’s so cool,” I tell him, waving at the albums. “But what’s this one?” I ask him, showing the one I don’t know.

Looking at the front, I can tell that I’ve heard of the singer, because her name sounds familiar, but I haven’t listened to her music.

“There’s one song on this album that 15-year-old me was kind of obsessed with because I tend to like listening to songs that I can relate to and… well… you’ll just listen to the song called You Belong With Me, okay? I think you’ll get it. You can listen to the rest of the album if you want of course, I think you may like it, but yeah I bought it for this song.”

I guess he couldn’t just send the song to me, he had to be all extra about it and buy me an entire album. Typical Baz Pitch. 

“I’m curious now.”

“Don’t listen to it right now,” he says before I can get my phone out or put this in his CD player. “It’s kind of embarrassing honestly. It’s your opportunity to make fun of me, but I’d rather you make fun of me _after_ you’ve opened all of your presents, alright?”

“I won’t make fun of you. But yeah, alright.” I put the CD down next to me, with the other, making a pile because it’s going to irritate Baz if they’re messy. He’s a bit of a neat freak sometimes. “Give me my next present, Basilton.”

He does, with a smile.

It’s a jewelry box. I’ve been curious about it since I saw it. Why the hell would Baz buy me jewelry, I don’t ever wear any.

I’m excited to see what it is, though. I might start wearing jewelry, who knows. 

As I open the box, my eyes fall on a golden pendant, oval shaped. It’s golden -I suppose it’s _gold_ \- with a S on it. It reminds me of that one necklace Baz once wore that has a B on it.

“Merlin, Baz, it’s beautiful.”

He gives me a shy smile. “Look on the other side of the pendant.”

I do. There’s my name, Simon, and a date on it. My birthday. My _actual_ birthday. We know when it truly is, since Baz read the Mage’s notebooks. 

“It’s a tradition in my family, and in a lot of the Old Families, to give each child an item of jewelry for their 18th birthday, with their name and birthday carved on it. I have a bracelet. I thought a necklace was better for you, since you’re already used to wearing those, with that cross you used to have around your neck,” he says with a chuckle. That damn cross. I wore it to keep him away, when all I ever wanted was to have him close, even back then. “And well,” he continues “ You… If your mother was alive, you’d probably have gotten one from her. The Salisburys… they follow those traditions.”

I can’t find words to express what I’m feeling right now, so instead I just grab Baz by the back of the neck and kiss him.

Some part of me tells me that I should feel guilty he got me something that must have cost so much when all I bought him are two silly stuffed animals, but the other part of me is too emotional to care.

He’s so thoughtful. 

“Thank you,” I say when I pull back.

“Of course,” he answers, sounding glad. “Do you want me to put it on you?”

I shake my head. “I’m gonna do that myself.”

I reach for the necklace, taking it carefully. The chain seems strong though. That’s good, because I don’t intend on ever taking it off and I would hate for it to break in my sleep or something. I clasp it around my neck, the feeling of a chain here again after so long without it being a bit strange. I know that soon I’ll stop feeling it altogether, though, when I’ll be used to wearing it.

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t let Snow time to get all sappy about the necklace and give him his third and last present. That’s the one I’m most anxious about. 

It seems to be the one _he_ is the most _excited_ about. Probably because it’s big and he’s a child.

Merlin, I hope he isn’t expecting something incredible. He’s going to be disappointed.

He frowns when he has torn enough paper to see what’s inside.

Fuck, he doesn’t like.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

**…**

**Simon**

What the hell is that?

I mean it looks like something knitted, but I can’t quite tell what exactly with how it’s folded. 

I throw the wrapping paper away, unfolding that yellow thing to see what it is.

Oh. 

God, he’s so sweet. 

“A cardigan?”

**…**

**Baz**

He sounds perplexed. He hate it. I hate this. 

I’m such a fucking moron.

He told me the Wellbeloves only gifted him clothes and even though he was grateful, he didn’t like it because he knew it was because Mrs Wellbelove didn’t like how he dressed, and I went and got him fucking clothes.

Good job, Basilton, really.

“You’re always wearing my mother’s,” I say, trying to justify my dumb fucking gift. “But black really isn’t your colour, so I… I wanted you to have one that wasn’t yellow, which is why I made this, but I underst..”

“Wait?” he interrupts me. “You _made_ it? Like, with magic?”

My blood rushes to my cheek. I’m pretty sure Snow can see it. “No… I knitted it. It kept me busy during my sleepless nights,” I say with a nervous, breathy laugh.

**…**

**Simon**

He knitted it. 

Baz, who does almost nothing without magic, took the time to knit me a cardigan _himself_ because he noticed I liked wearing one. It must have been so difficult, and taken so long. 

That’s the last straw.

I feel the tears on my cheeks before I even realize that I’m crying.

**…**

**Baz**

Simon throws himself at me again, but to hug me this time, not kiss me.

So he didn’t hate it?

I sigh in relief as he whispers “That’s wonderful. I love you so much,” against my shoulder.

**…**

We cuddle a lot after that, because Snow likes crushing me in his arms when he’s emotional, and he only leaves my embrace to change my mother’s cardigan for the one I made him. It’s not perfect, I messed it up a couple of times, and it hasn’t been worn as much as my mother’s so it isn’t as comfortable but he doesn’t seem to care. I’m glad. Honestly, considering the astronomical amount of hours I spent making this thing, and how many times I almost gave up in frustration, I would have been a bit sad.

So the morning rolls in peacefully, until something hits me.

I look at my phone to check the time, and it confirms the bad feeling I have.

“What is it?” Simon asks when I move him off of me to sit up.

“It’s noon and Fiona isn’t here. She was supposed to come for lunch, and she always arrives around 11:30. She should be here.”

“Oh. Maybe she’s just late.”

“She wouldn’t be for Christmas,” I answer as I click on the icon to call her.

It takes five beeping noises for her to answer. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, Fiona. Why aren’t you at the Manor?”

“Didn’t Malcolm tell you? I’m not coming.”

My stomach drops. Merlin, did I upset her that much, the other day, that she wouldn’t show up for Christmas? She loves that holiday. She especially loves pretending she hated the present I got her. 

“Why… Why aren’t you coming? Are you cross with me?”

“What?” She sounds confused. “No I’m not cross with you boyo, I’m off in Romania on Coven business.”

“During Christmas?” I answer, puzzled.

“Hey, tell Mitali Bunce that. I’m sorry I can’t be here, but I’ll drive to your place if I come back before you have to go to school, okay? And otherwise, well, you know you can come to London whenever you want. My door’s always open.”

It eases the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach to hear that. I would hate for her to be angry with me.

“Alright. See you when you’re back home, then?”

“Yeah. Merry Christmas, boyo. Say Merry Christmas to your Chosen One for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to be a killjoy, but the next chapter will probably be the last or second to last soft chapter before it all goes down again lol  
> oh and also there are going to be time jumps  
> rather big time jumps  
> a few weeks/months of time jump, but that’s big compared with how everything I wrote so far happened in a limited amount of time


	38. Chapter Thirty Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, have some pointless fluff, as a treat

**Baz**

“Gentlemen,” I say, walking in Dev and Niall’s room. They’re already packing their things. “I need assistance.”

“What for?” Niall, asks, looks up from the shirt he’s busy folding -which is  _ my  _ shirt that he stole. 

I was kind enough to let him wear my clothes for a few days since he only packed to stay one night, and he decided that it gave him the right to keep the clothes he liked. I don’t mind. I have more clothes than I can wear, and none of the things he took are my favourite pieces. 

I wriggle the shopping bag in my hands. “To dye my hair.”

“Holy shit, you’re pathetic,” Dev comments.

**...**

Still, he’s with us in the bathroom as Niall uses the skills he got dying his sister’s hair at home for years to put red highlights in my hair.

Dev is not being helpful at all, of course, but he’s here. 

He even says “It doesn’t look as bad as I thought it would” after Niall is done blowing my hair dry. 

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a prick. I think it looks great,” Niall says, always so kind. He elbows me in the side, a smirk on his lips. “I’m sure Snow will like it.”

Dev snorts and I feel myself blush. Crowley, why did I feed last night. 

“Come on mate, it’s obvious you did it because Snow you looked cool on those pictures with your stupid hair dyed, you’re not fooling anyone,” Dev says, amusement in his voice.

“Shut up,” I mumble, collecting all the things I have to go throw away. “And go back to packing your stuff, we should leave soon.”

They’re both laughing when I rush out of the bathroom.

**…**

I’m not done buttoning my shirt when I hear footsteps in the direction of my room. 

Fuck, Simon came back earlier than I thought. He’s totally ruining my plans. I manage to lock myself in the bathroom before he can open the door to my room, though.

“Baz?” I hear him say, confused. 

**…**

**Simon**

Merlin, where is he if not in his room. He almost  _ never  _ leaves his room, and I know for sure he wasn’t in Dev and Niall’s 

“I’m getting ready!” he shouts from the bathroom. Oh, so that’s where he is, okay. “I’m coming in a moment. You should get ready too, we’re leaving soon after I’m done.”

I wince.

We’re going to London, to Niall’s place more specifically, to celebrate the New Year. Dev and Niall are staying there for the rest of the holidays after that, which is why we celebrate in London and not at the manor in the first place. 

“But I brought you coffee, it’s going to be cold,” I say as I walk to the door that separates the bedroom and the bathroom. 

Daphne always takes me to a coffee shop when we go to town to run errands. I thought I’d bring Baz something, it’s been a while since he had one of those disgusting, too sweet drinks he likes. 

He opens the door just enough to slip his hand through the opening, waiting for me to give him the drink. Crowley, what is he hiding in there. 

“Careful, it’s hot,” I warn him before he grabs it. 

“Thanks, love. See you in a minute.”

…

It’s  _ not  _ a minute. It’s a solid half hour. I would have had time to change a dozen times while Baz did God knows what in the bathroom.

I’m a bit annoyed when he  _ finally  _ opens the door, because I thought we could have some peaceful time together before we’d be stuck with his friends all evening long. Not that I don’t like Niall and Dev, they’re cool blokes, but it’s exhausting being around people a lot sometimes, and I just spent the afternoon running around town with Daphne. I need to recharge my batteries a bit, and I wanted to do that by letting Baz hold me.

When I see him, however, I don’t feel like complaining about how long he spent getting ready anymore, though.

He’s drop dead gorgeous. Even more beautiful than usual, which he honestly shouldn’t be allowed to be. 

He’s put on a tight pair of black jeans, with a black shirt that has huge red flowers on it tucked in them, the top buttons undone, but more than usual. It gives a  _ very  _ nice view of his pale chest. The shirt in also shows his chest a bit ; it’s not see through per say, but it’s not completely opaque either, so as I walk closer, I can sort of see his body through the fabric.

And holy shit…

**…**

**Baz**

“You dyed your hair!” Simon exclaims as he comes up to me, looking at me up and down. 

I give him a smirk. “I did. Do you like it?”

“Fuck Baz, of course I like it. It looks amazing,” he says, grinning like a child as he reaches out to run his fingers through my hair. 

His hand stops at the back of my head and he pulls me down, boring his eyes into mine. “ _ You  _ look amazing.”

I don’t think I’ll ever tire of his compliments. I hope he never stops showering me in them. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I answer as  _ I  _ check him out.

He’s wearing a nice pair of dark jeans and one of my silk shirts that he borrowed for the occasion. It’s pink and purple, and it looks absolutely lovely on him. Much more than on me. The colours suit him better, and the shirt is more adjusted, especially around those impossibly broad shoulders of his, while on me it’s just large and flowy. 

“You put makeup on too,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on my face. 

I should probably feel more uncomfortable about being scrutinized like that, but it’s Simon. I never mind anything Simon does. 

Besides, I know that it’s not because he thinks it looks stupid. He kept complimenting me, that one time I wore eyeliner. 

“I thought I’d spice things up a bit, and I haven’t had any reason to wear makeup in a while, so New Year’s Eve came as the reason I needed.”

If Niall’s going to take pictures -and he will- I have to look at least 10 times hotter than him and Dev both. That’s just a rule.  _ I’m _ the hot one in this group. 

“Well I think it’s lovely. You don’t need a reason to wear it though.”

“I like makeup but not enough to bother putting it on for no reason. I spend enough time in the bathroom already, don’t you think?” I add, since all Snow has ever done, even long before we were an item, was complaining about how long it takes me to get ready.

He laughs at that. “That’s for sure.”

Then, he looks at me a bit more tenderly, and strokes my cheek with his knuckles. I melt under the touch, my eyes closing on their own accord

“Say, Baz?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think that you could… maybe… erm…”

“Spit it out, Snow.”

He pinches my side. “Don’t be a prick. Do you think you could put some makeup on me?” he asks, with that adorable, hesitant voice.

My eyes snap open. His cheeks are flushed.

“Oh, Simon of course.”

His cheeks get even redder. I kiss both of them. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. No one’s going to make fun of you, and I can make it light if you want.”

He shrugs. “Do whatever you think will make me pretty, I guess.”

I kiss his forehead this time, and he leans into the touch slightly. “You’re already pretty,” I whisper against his skin.

He smells of the shampoo Daphne stocks up for guests. Snow is more than a guest here now, of course, but I suppose he doesn’t care enough to want to use something else in his hair and just does with whatever my stepmother gave him when he emptied a bottle. 

“Well, make me prettier then,” he says with a playful voice.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz goes grab his makeup, and then I somehow end up lying down on the bed with him sitting low on my stomach, the products scattered all around me. 

“I’m pretty sure there are more convenient positions to apply makeup on someone,” I tell him, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Why do it conveniently when I can do it while being on top of you, huh?” is the only answer he gives me.

I guess I can’t argue with that. There are worse things than Baz Pitch sitting on me. 

Without further ado, he opens a tube with some kind of cream thing that he puts on my eyelids. 

“What is that?”

“Base primer. I’m going to put eyeshadow on you, and that makes the eyeshadow look better.”

I hum. “Okay. What colour are you going to use? For the eyeshadow?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” he answers as he sits up straighter, grabbing two pallets.

He opens them both, holds them in one hand, and take a brush in the other hand to show me some of the shades. 

“I would like to use that golden one because I’m sure it would look lovely on you, and it would blend in well with your skin tone so it would be discreet, but that pink is a perfect match for the details on your shirt, so it would be a pity not to use it, but I’m also tempted to use this lilac one.”

“I mean, you could use all then, I guess?”

“Hm, no. That would be too much at once. I think I’m just going to go for golden and lilac. I feel like the pink would suit you a bit less.”

He looks back and forth between my face and his eyeshadow pallets for a few more seconds, to be sure about his decision, before he leans down again.

“Close your eyes.”

I do.

Soon enough, I feel the makeup brush on my eyelid. It’s a bit of a strange sensation, I’m definitely not used to that, but it’s not a bad sensation. The brush is soft, it feels nice. He also puts eyeshadow under my eye, which seems a bit weird, isn’t that thing supposed to be for the eyelid?

I suppose Baz knows more about that stuff than I do, though, so I keep my mouth shut.

He then goes on to the other eye, for about as much time as it took him to do the first one. 

“And that’s it for the eyes,” he says, moving back and putting the products back on the bed, the brushes -he used two of them, or so it seems, on top of the pallets not to stain the bed sheets. 

“Won’t you put that black thing on my eyelashes? Mascara, I think.”

Aggie’s mum always told her to wear some of that, when she did makeup for the Christmas Eve party.

“No. I like it like that.”

“Okay, then. You’re the expert.”

He snorts, reaching for a small container, and yet another brush. Merlin, how many of those does he own, and why do they all look different.

“I’m far from an expert. Niall, for instance, knows much more than I do. He used to wear makeup a lot, and he still did his sister’s makeup sometimes, before she moved out. He’s the one who taught me, actually.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

He groans, looking down at the powder thing in his hand, that he’s dipping the brush in. “Hush.”

A smile grows on my lips. “No, but that’s really sweet. You asked your best friend to teach you how to do makeup. It’s adorable, babe.”

“Hush, I said,” he says, poking me with the round end of his makeup brush. 

And then he’s doing his thing on my face again. This time, it’s on my cheekbones. I guess he’s putting that thing that he uses on himself, that makes his skin shine. He also puts some over my top lip and on the tip of my nose.

“What’s that called?” I ask when he’s done.

“Highlighter.”

He discards the container and the brush, and grabs a tube that looks like lipstick.

“Uh, Baz, I’d rather not wear lipstick, if you don’t mind.”

The eye stuff is cool but I’m sure I’d just look like a moron with lipstick on.

Though I can’t say the idea of leaving lipstick stains on Baz, since I can’t ever leave love bites, has a certain appeal to it. 

“It’s not lipstick,” he explains as he uncaps it. He twists it, and the product that come out of it is dark pink shade. I frown. “It’s chapstick. Trust me, it’s barely visible, but it’s good for your lips, especially now in winter. It makes them less chapped. You’ll come to the bathroom with me, when we’re done. I’ll make you choose a tube for you to keep. There are different flavours.”

“Oh… Okay then. What does this one taste like? Why did you pick it?”

He’s closer than he was before when he bends down this time. I feel him press his thighs tighter around my hips to keep himself stable. His abs must be straining. I want to slip my hands under his shirt and feel them.

“I picked it because it’s my favourite. As for the taste… well, you’ll see when I put it on.”

And so he puts it on.

Cherry. It’s cherry flavoured. 

I have the -probably stupid- impulse to lick it off my lips. It makes Baz laugh. “Don’t lick it, you numpty. It’s supposed to stay on.”

He applies it to my lips again, and then he bends down more, to kiss me.

My hand automatically goes to his waist. His shirt feels nothing like his usual shirts.

“It’s supposed to stay on,” I say, teasing him with his own words when he pulls back.

He doesn’t answer, simply puts chapstick on me  _ again. _

**…**

**Simon**

We somehow manage to snog without messing up our makeup, Baz’s hair, or our clothes too much. Probably because we don’t do it for a while. I feel like it was only mere seconds ago that Baz slipped me the tongue when Dev knocks on the door, opening it before he gets an answer.

“Ew, my eyes,” he says when he sees us, pretending to gag. Baz rolls his eyes, which makes me chuckle against his lips. 

Baz cranes his neck to glare at Dev. “You’re constantly doing all sorts of nasty things to Niall when I’m around, you have absolutely nothing to say.”

“First of all, that’s not true, we’re very private people.”

Baz scoffs. “Yeah, sure. Last summer, at Fiona’s, the evening after we went to the cinema. Does that ring any bell?”

“Niall had been annoying. I had to make him pay,” Dev answers, tilting his chin up.

“And you could have done that in the privacy of your bloody room instead of shoving your hand in his pants while I was in the room, for magic’s sake.”

I would want to say that it’s kind of a sick thing to do, but honestly, I’m tempted to do the same thing to Baz with Dev and Niall around, now.

Baz says I have a thing for exhibitionism since that one time I fingered him when he was on the phone with his parents. 

I blush at the memory, while Dev is just smirking at the memory of the thing  _ he  _ did.

“He was  _ so mad _ ,” he says dreamily. “We had incredible sex after that.”

“Fucking hell, Dev!” Baz groans, grabbing the first thing he lays his hand on -a small makeup container with powder in it- and throwing it in Dev’s face. “I  _ don’t  _ want to hear about the sex you have with Niall. Get out of here.”

Dev doges the thing Baz threw at him, then reaches for something in his pocket. Keys. He makes them spin around his index finger. “I’ve stolen your keys, if you two are not in the car in five minutes we’re leaving without you.”

And then he’s gone.

Baz stops holding himself up, falling on me completely -though carefully. 

“I fucking despise him,” he mumbles, his face buried against my shoulder.

**…**

“Hey, Niall, Dev, Baz gave me this CD with a song he listened to a lot in fifth year and he said I should listen to it...”

“No,” Baz interrupts me immediately, glaring at me from the driver’s seat. 

“I haven’t listened to it yet,” I continue, giving him a playful smile before turning to look at his friends again. “How about we listen to it together?”

Niall has an amused look on his face. 

“That sounds like a great idea,” Dev says with a grin.

“Okay, then.”

I take my phone, changing the song that’s currently playing to the song Baz talked to me about.

“Snow, this was supposed to be for  _ you _ ,” Baz mumbles, but he doesn’t try to stop me so I supposed he isn’t that bothered.

If it has to do with how he felt about me in fifth year, Dev and Niall must know it already anyway.

I put my phone down, and just let myself listen to the lyrics, closing my eyes not to get distracted. 

Some stick out to me.

_ ‘I’m in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night _

_ I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like _

_ And she'll never know your story like I do’ _

_ ‘Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find _

_ That what you're looking for has been here the whole time _

_ If you could see that I'm the one _

_ Who understands you _

_ Been here all along _

_ So, why can't you see? _

_ You belong with me’ _

I can’t even care about whether or not Dev and Niall are making fun of Baz, now. Can’t care about anything else but him, really.

I imagine Baz, fifth year, who I was so convinced was just some evil git, burning with jealousy at the thought of Agatha and I together. Dreaming of me being his and not hers.

When I open my eyes, they immediately search for him, just like my hand searches for his on the gear stick. 

He isn’t looking at me, and his cheeks are slightly flushed.

“Baz.”

He glances at me for a second, to make me understand that I have his attention, before looking at the road again. 

I take his hand off of the gear stick and squeeze it.

“I see it now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....... and now things go downhill
> 
> i have written a little transition thing (it’s really short, 366 words) between this part of the story and the next part, and i’ll post it later tonight (it’s 9 PM for me right now) because why not scare y’all a bit
> 
> i’m not really loving the idea of separating the story in two parts, even if it was always planned, but the second part still fits “loss” and i wouldn’t know what other use to use for it, and it’s probably going to be short anyway, so yeah, i’m still posting it as part of a study in loss instead of giving it a study of its own


	39. Transition

_Maybe the starting point was January, when I went back to school, away from him, after those two weeks of bliss. I ignored it, because he didn’t ask me to stay._

_Or maybe it was Valentine’s Day, when I asked him if he wanted me to come over this weekend and all he said was “I don't care, if you want.”. I ignored it because I know that he is forgetful of dates._

_Or maybe it was my birthday, when he only wished me a happy birthday late in the afternoon even though we chatted in the morning. I ignored it, because at least he eventually remembered it._

_Or maybe it was the day my father told us Roman’s sentence, and I was fine with the few months in jail he got, while he thought his wand should have been snapped and snapped at me for not thinking the same. I ignored it, because I already knew this would be something we’d never agree on._

_Or maybe it was when he asked me to come over for the weekend and I said not because I was buried in work. I ignored it, because I came over the next weekend._

_Or maybe it was when he slammed the door and ran to his room instead of letting me help him through his nightmare. I ignored it, because it’s okay to want space, sometimes._

_Or maybe it was when he saw blood again in the bathroom sink. I ignored it, because it was just one time and he didn’t mention it._

_Or maybe it was when I realized he seemed more happy spending time with my family as a whole than with just me. I ignored it, because I knew all he ever wanted was to have a family._

_Or maybe the starting point was that very first day, when he kissed me before my trial, when I thought I saw the spark of something beautiful, that would start fireworks and light up our lives, when in truth, all it did was light us like candles to be consumed bit by bit._

_But I’m going to ignore that there was even a starting point, because there’s no sweeter way to burn than for those eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... so yeah  
> we’re gonna have fun


	40. Chapter Thirty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the starting point

_February 5, 2016_

**Simon**

“Malcolm?”

He looks up from the paper he’s writing on. “Yes?”

“There’s… um… There’s something I wanted to ask you,” I say, wrapping my cardigan around myself.

I haven’t stopped wearing that thing since Baz gave it to me. It’s not as comfortable as his mother’s, but I love it so much more. 

Malcolm puts his pen down and leans back in his chair. “Well, pray tell. What is it?”

I try to swallow the lump in my throat. He’s probably going to think I’m crazy. 

“Do you think I could visit the Mage in prison?”

His eyebrows shoot up, and he looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. Fuck I knew I shouldn’t have asked. 

“Simon, why would you want that?” Malcolm asks, sounding completely astonished. 

For a lot of reasons, that may or may not make sense.

It’s not something I decided on an impulse, for once. I’ve been thinking about it pretty much since Baz went back to school after the holidays, because the nightmares are more intense and more present when Baz isn’t here. I suspect that it’s partly because of the Sweet dreams he casts on himself, magic is a tricky thing, and we’re so close when we sleep, I may receive some sort of light version of the spell.

Whatever.

The nightmares are worse now, and _he_ is practically always in them. Maybe if I see him, if I talk to him, it will bring my brain some peace. Bring _me_ some peace.

Not that bringing me peace is what any of my past interactions with the Mage has done.

“I think I need to. I… I found out that he was my… my…” I stop to take a breath. “My _father_ , and I haven’t seen him or talked to him since I have. It’s… it’s really hard, having received this big, pretty life changing piece of information and not even being able to… talk to him about it. Ask for answers, or something. So yeah, I think it could help me to see him again. Just once. For… closure, I suppose.”

Strangely, Malcolm just nods. He doesn’t tell me that it’s a stupid idea and that I should forget it. 

“Alright. When do you want to go? I’ll drive you.”

My eyes go wide, probably comically wide because there’s a shadow of a smile on Malcolm’s face when he says. “What? Were you expecting me to be opposed to it?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t think you’d just… agree.”

“You’re 18, Simon. You can make your own decisions. If you want to visit David, I won’t stop you.”

_You’re 18. You can make your own decisions._

I think it’s the first time an adult doesn’t treat me like a child. Hell, even people my age treat me like a child. I know she doesn’t mean anything bad by it, and I’m grateful for it sometimes, but Penny does. There are times when it feels like she’s my mum and not my best friend.

Baz tends to do that too, to be honest. It’s like he thinks I’m too stupid to make a decision or as if my judgment can’t be trusted. For instance, if I had told Baz I wanted to visit the Mage, he would have gone on one of these rants about what’s good for me and what isn’t and blah blah blah and would have kept asking me if I was sure “really sure Simon? Because you can change your mind, you know.”

“I’d like to go as soon as possible, then,” I tell Malcolm.

**…**

The next day, we’re driving Merlin-knows-where, to the place where the Mage is held captive. 

Normally, those kinds of visits take time because you have to ask the Coven and wait for their agreement -or refusal- but since Malcolm is in the Coven, rules don’t really apply to him, so his presence with me is enough to grant me access to the Mage’s cell. 

I thought it would happen in some room made for visits, but Malcolm explained that there were spells around his cell that prevented the Mage from leaving it except at very specific times, for meals, and that because of this, I had to go to his cell to see him.

He assured me that one of the people in charge of keeping the inmates in check would come inside the cell with me, for my safety.

I think it’s unnecessary, it’s not like I’ve never been in a room alone with the Mage before, but I’m not going to argue. 

When we get there, Malcolm puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it before letting go and walking up to the entrance.

I follow behind.

I don’t really pay attention to the things he says to various people, not to the building in itself as we cross it ; my mind is only focused on the Mage.

I’m going to see him. 

The last time I did was months ago. I’ve never gone this long without a word from him ever since he picked me up at the care home when I was 11. 

When Malcolm and the man accompanying us -I didn’t even notice there was someone- stop in front of a door, I freeze.

It must be it, right?

His cell.

He’s behind that door. 

The man takes his wand out of his pocket, and turns to me. He’s a bit intimidating. He’s tall, and buff, and his eyes are a piercing blue colour. 

“When I open the door, stay behind me. I will take you inside the room and stay there with you. I won’t hear what you are saying, but I will intervene if the inmate tries to harm you. He’s not allowed to touch you. When you want to leave, come to me and I’ll open the door for you again,” he says in a monotonous voice, probably repeating words he’s already said a million times. 

I nod. “Alright.”

And so he points his wand at the door and spells it open. I can’t even see the inside of the cell yet, let alone the Mage, but I feel a lump form in my throat. 

I can’t help but shoot a panicked glance at Malcolm, and he squeezes my shoulder again.

“It’s okay, Simon. You can leave whenever you want. He’s not the one calling the shots anymore.”

That reassures me a bit. 

The Mage doesn’t have authority over me anymore. _He_ is in prison, and _I’m_ the one coming to see him because I _want_ to, not because he demanded I did.

It’s my decision. I can make the decision to go if I want. He can’t force me to stay. He can’t force me to do anything. 

I take a deep breath, straightening my back, and then I’m following the man inside.

**…**

“You have a visitor,” the man says.

I’m still behind him, looking stubbornly at his back and nothing else. I don’t think I want to see anything else.

But just as I think that, the man steps aside, and my eyes fall directly on him.

It’s like I’m seeing the Mage for the first time.

He hasn’t changed, not really, except for the fact that he isn’t wearing those silly Robin Wood like clothes anymore. 

But his face is the same.

I try to see myself in him, try to find a resemblance, _something_ that should have shown me that he was my father, and I feel nauseous when I _do_ find common traits.

If the colour of my eyes comes from my mother, the shape of them is the same as the Mage’s. His nose is similar to mine too, and when I think about it, the bronze shade of my hair looks like the perfect blend between Lucy Salisbury’s blonde locks and his brown hair. 

I’ve analyzed my mother’s picture and my own face enough to know that I mostly look like her, but I still look a bit like _him._

His lips spread in a smile that reminds me of the gleam in his eyes when they met mine, as I could still smell Emmeline Hale’s burnt flesh.

I’m going to be sick. 

Why did I think this was a good idea.

“Simon, my boy,” he says with a honeyed voice. “I would say it’s a pleasure to see you, but it would be a lie.”

He stands from the chair he was sitting on, walking towards me. He doesn’t get too close, but he’s close enough. If I reached out with my hand, I could touch him.

“Lying to me never bothered you before, sir,” I answer, trying to make my voice cold and confident, like Baz’s. I don’t think I succeeded.

I couldn’t even keep myself from throwing that “sir” in there. Old habits die hard, I suppose, but it makes me angry that even now, my first reflex is to show him respect. I don’t want to show him respect. He doesn’t deserve any. 

“Oh, Simon, don’t be like that. You cannot blame it all on me. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, _son_.”

The single word makes my blood curdle. Son. 

He acknowledged it.

I’m his son.

Fuck, I’m _his son._

I’m going to be sick.

“You abandoned me,” I say, my voice detached.

I feel like I’ve left my body and I’m just watching the scene from the outside. Like I’m not really here, like it’s not happening to me.

His smile turns into a smirk. “That’s a harsh word, don’t you think? As I see it, I put you in the hands of qualified people for them to raise you until I could take you back. If I had truly abandoned you, I wouldn’t have come back, Simon. I could have left you there your whole life. You’d have never gone to Watford. It’s only thanks to me that you did. You should be grateful, and instead you’re throwing false accusations at me. I think you’re being unfair.”

Maybe I am. It’s true, he saved me from those awful fucking care home. He gave me Watford.

No.

I’m… I _was_ a mage. Going to Watford isn’t something I earned, it’s not some kind of gift. It’s my birthright. Letting me receive an education at Watford wasn’t an act of kindness.

“You still left me there. For _11 years._ Couldn’t you keep me with you?”

Was I that much of a bother? That much of a burden?

I could have been a good kid. I could have shut up and played on my own. That’s what I did at the care homes, anyway.

You didn’t have to leave me.

He gives me a condescending look. “I had better things to do than raise a whiny child. When I see how you turned out,” he says, looking at me up and down, disdain written all over his face. “I think maybe I should have. Maybe you would have known not to betray me, if I had.”

“I didn’t betray you.”

You betrayed _me._

“Oh, but you did. See this place?” He waves his hand at the grey walls and rudimentary furniture of the room. “I’m here because of you, Simon. I took you in, I gave you a wand and the sword, I personally taught you important skills, and what did you do in return? You didn’t keep your mouth shut. How very ungrateful of you. Did no one teach you not to bite the hand that feeds you?”

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Burnt flesh, the terrified look on a child’s face.

“It was _wrong_ ,” I say between gritted teeth. “What you did was _wrong_. You... You killed her!”

The Mage smiles again, that cruel smile that I saw for the first time on that damned September day. 

“You told on me about something that _you_ had done too, multiple times. You killed and killed and killed, for years. It’s no different. If I’m here, you should be too,” he says lightly. 

He’s taking all of this so casually, I wouldn’t be surprised if he lounged on his chair and looked at his nails. It makes me so angry.

“Because you told me to! Because I didn’t have a choice! And… And they were evil! They were monsters!”

“So was that vampire.”

I think of Baz.

Of all the times he called himself a monster.

Of the pain in his voice when he said it.

And I’m angrier.

“She wasn’t a monster! She was an innocent woman and you murdered her!” I shout at the Mage. 

He huffs out a laugh. It sounds sharp and mean. 

“Oh yes, it’s true. I suppose your views on those creatures have changed now that you have a… particular relationship with a vampire. That Pitch brat. Rumors spread fast, Simon.”

Keep your mouth off Baz.

“That’s none of your concern,” I say, boring my eyes into his.

It’s the first time I look him in the eyes since I arrived. Just like his face, they look exactly the same as they used to.

But colder.

So much colder.

There was some… softness to the Mage’s eyes, sometimes, when he looked at me.

It’s all gone now. 

He looks at me like I imagine a hunter looks at a prey. It makes me feel small. I want to curl up in a ball and say sorry.

I don’t even know what I would be saying sorry for. Existing, maybe.

“It is, actually. It’s very much my concern when you side with the enemy because you’re _sleeping_ with the enemy.”

“He’s not the enemy. He’s just a boy.”

For so long, I made that mistake too. For so long, I saw him as everything but a boy, when that’s all he ever was. 

A boy, just as lost in all of this mess as I was.

The Mage scoffs. “I can’t believe you. You get a taste of his cock, and suddenly he’s ‘just a boy’. How pathetic. Weren’t you the one who spent years telling me he was evil? Warning me that he was a dangerous, bloodsucking creature?” 

The Mage walks closer to me. He still isn’t touching me, but he’s so close. I step back.

I’m going to be sick. 

“I was wrong! I… I was wrong the whole time, okay! He’s not evil, he never harmed anyone! He’s... he’s a good person and he _loves me._ ”

“Loves you,” the Mage says, shaking his head, like that’s the most unbelievable thing he’s ever heard. “Merlin, Simon, you’re so naive, my boy. It’s pitiful, really. I’m almost sorry for you. I didn’t think someone could live in such delusion.”

Shut up.

I’m not delusional.

He loves me.

He said it. So often.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

“He loves me.”

“No he doesn’t. Who could ever?”

Tears spring to my eyes. It’s getting hard to breathe.

 _Who could ever_.

No one did for the first 11 years of my life.

My _father_ doesn’t.

“Shut up!”

He smiles again, that fucking cruel smile. 

There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, like he’s enjoying watching me like that. Watching me suffer.

“How long do you think that will last, with the Pitch boy? How long do you think his pity will force him to keep you?”

Pity.

Baz sure shows me a lot of that.

Whenever he thinks of the fact that I don’t have magic, his eyes fill with it.

“Because it can’t be anything else than pity, Simon,” the Mage continues, with the same voice he used when I was a kid. “Unless you’re a _very_ good distraction, but even then, you’re just that. A _distraction_ . You’ll be enough to occupy him for a moment, but eventually, he’ll leave you. He’ll find someone else, someone better. Someone who is actually _worth_ something.”

It wouldn’t be hard for him.

Baz is so perfect.

He could have anyone he wanted. He’d just have to smile a bloke’s way to get in his pants. 

There are so many people smarter, more beautiful, more powerful than me, that would be so much better for Baz.

“Don’t you think he’ll want more than a troublesome, failed experiment like you?”

I’m going to be sick.

Failed experiment.

The words echo in my head, louder and louder.

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“You’re a burden to people, Simon. I can tell you that for sure, because you were one for me. That’s why they will leave you my boy, even if they’re here now. The Bunce girl and the Pitch boy, I mean. They’ll tire of you. How could they not?”

I already know that Penny will leave me, to go to America, in order to be with Micah.

My stomach drops when it hits me.

Even Penny, my best friend, the one person I’ve always been sure of, has been planning to leave me for half as long as we’ve known each other.

“Agatha Wellbelove already has. It was so obvious that you were nothing but one more problem to her, I cannot believe you didn’t notice. Believe me, everyone else saw it. Everyone else saw you were not capable of making someone happy. But how could you bring something to someone when there’s nothing good about you?”

Agatha is so much happier now than she was when she was with me. I know it, when I asked how she was doing, Baz told me that she was thriving now, even if she still dislikes Watford. 

Agatha wasn’t a hard girl to please, and I still couldn’t make her happy.

I wasn’t enough.

If I wasn’t enough for _her,_ how could I ever be for _Baz Pitch_?

“The only thing that was appealing about you was your magic, and you couldn’t even keep that. You’re a failure, Simon. All you do is fail and disappoint. That’s why you’ll end up alone. All alone.” He steps forward one last time, with a disgusted look on his face. “Because no one can truly care for someone as deeply flawed and useless as you, _son_.”

I’m not even controlling my body anymore. It’s acting on its own, rushing to the guard, for him to get me out of here.

I need to get out of here.

I don’t know how my feet can remember the way out of the prison, but somehow they do.

So I run, and I run, and I run, deaf to Malcolm calling my name.

I just run, until I can feel fresh air on my face.

And I start throwing my guts up.

Experiment.

Burden.

Problem.

Failure.

Disappointment.

Useless.

Alone.

All alone.

Alone, alone, alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you we were going to have fun  
> there’s another time jump between this chapter and the next one ^^  
> (not to spoil or anything, but the next chapter happens at Baz’s Leavers Ball)


	41. Chapter Thirty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! warning !!  
> this chapter shows Simon having body image issues and being harsh with the way he talks about his body. it will certainly be a thing again in later chapters, so be warned.  
> if you want to skip this particular part, stop reading after Daphne’s second POV ends

_The moment it really hit me that there was something wrong with my relationship with him was when even the sex became difficult._

_I was used to our little pointless fights that were solved before they were even started and to the distance we sometimes put between us. It had always been there, since we had gotten together._

_But the sex… Well, the sex had always been there too. It had been the one thing that had always worked, even when our relationship wasn’t at its best. It had even_ solved _some of our pointless fights._

 _So when the sex started being an issue… I realized that we had a lot of other issues too. I didn’t_ accept _it, but I realized it._

**…**

_July 15, 2016_

**Baz**

Today, I’m leaving Watford.

Today is my last day at this school where I spent the last 8 years of my life.

The school where I met the love of my life.

I feel a smile grow on my face as I think about Simon. I’m _finally_ seeing him again today.

With the end of the school year and my graduation came a lot of exams, and I mean, _a lot_ of exams, so I couldn’t afford to go back home to be with him as much as I wish I could have, and we also called less. 

But as the year went by, we called less and less. I suppose that he started being used to not having me with him and therefore missed me less, which I’d say is a good thing. I hated thinking of him at home, missing me. It made me feel guilty.

But anyway, today I’m going to be in the same room as Simon Snow for the first time in five excruciatingly long weeks. I couldn’t be happier.

I miss him so damn much.

Having him on the phone is great, but it doesn’t compare to the real thing. I can’t lean in and kiss him when we’re on the phone. I can’t reach out and mess with his curls on the phone. I can’t feel his head on my chest and his hand on my stomach before falling asleep on the phone. 

I just hope he’s as excited to see me as I am to see him.

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t want to go to Warford.

It’s terrifying.

I don’t want to be back there, for the damn Leavers Ball on top of that. 

All of my old classmates will be here. I’ll be the fool who lost his magic. The fallen Chosen One.

They’ll all talk behind my back. They’ll all make fun of me.

And Christ, I’m going to this stupid ball with _Baz._ As if I wouldn’t be the centre of attention enough by being _me_ , I have to go on a bloke’s arm. 

It’s going to be a disaster.

But I promised Baz I’d come. He wants me to come, for some reason. I can’t give him one more reason to regret being with me in the first place by letting him down the one time he asks something of me. 

He’s been so patient with me.

I know I’ve been kind of an arsehole to Baz lately.

Well, for months, really. 

I’ve been an arsehole to _everyone_. 

The only person I can bear the presence of is the baby, Elias. I’ve been helping his parents with him since he was born, and he loves me. Sometimes, at night, when I’m still silently crying from a nightmare, I sneak in his room and sit on the floor, next to his crib, and watch him sleep. It soothes me, to watch the slow rise and fall of his chest, to hear the cute little sounds he makes in his sleep, to see the lights of his mobile dance around the ceiling. Then, when I see that he wakes up and starts whining because he wants to be fed, I go down to the kitchen, the baby in my arms, prepare his drink, and make him drink it, sitting on the couch, unless his mum or dad come in the room and want to do it themselves. Usually, that doesn’t happen. They’re quite happy when I’m taking care of Elias and they can both have a decent night of sleep. 

I’m happy because I’m with the baby.

I love that little guy a lot. 

His birth was a bit of a mess, he was born too early, and I think that got everyone a bit freaked out even though he was perfectly fine.

It was when Elias was born that Baz came back home for the last time. 

5 weeks ago.

It feels impossible, seeing Baz after so long.

It’s always hard, seeing him again when we’ve been separated. I don’t know why, but there’s this awkwardness, on my part at least. It’s like I have to re-learn how to love Baz every time we meet again. 

Re-learn how to act around him. _De_ -learn those instincts I still have to mistrust him, to think that it’s all just a plot.

 _It may_ be a plot. Who knows. Maybe he doesn’t really love me. Maybe he’s staying with me because he hasn’t found better yet. Maybe he _has_ found better, and now he’s trying to see how long it will take me to realize he’s seeing someone else. Because why wouldn’t he be seeing someone else, after all? He barely sees me anymore, and I’m not as pleasant to be around as I used to. The only thing I still do right, the only thing I do _better_ than at first, is the sex. I know how to touch him, _where_ to touch him, to get the loveliest sounds out of him. I know what turns him on, and the things that make him get off faster. I know how to read his reactions, I can tell when he’s on the edge of the good kind of too much and the bad kind of too much, I know when to tease him and when to give him what he wants. 

But I know all of that because I learnt this, because I studied his body more carefully than I ever studied anything else.

Someone else could learn this too. It’s not that complicated making Baz come. 

I shake that thought.

If I start getting all paranoid about Baz cheating on me, today will really not go well, and I don’t want to ruin his Leavers Ball. It’s important for him.

It would have been important for me too, if I was still a mage.

Baz says I’m still a mage even if I don’t have magic. I think it’s bullshit. I think he says that to comfort himself, because he’d be ashamed to be dating a Normal.

It’s beneath Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch to date a normal.

And yet here he is, stuck with me. 

**…**

**Baz**

I also hope it will go well for Simon.

I know it’s a big effort he is making, coming to Watford for me, and I’m extremely grateful. It can’t be easy. 

If I had lost _my_ magic, I’d never want to associate with the World of Mages in any way, except for my family, of course. It would be too painful for me going to Watford knowing I don’t have magic.

Knowing I don’t belong here anymore. 

_No._

Simon still belongs here. His things have remained in the room. The magic of the building didn’t make them disappear, that must mean Simon still belongs at Watford.

Belong in our world.

Belong with a mage.

Belong with me.

**…**

**Simon**

I rummage through my wardrobe to find the suit Baz bought for me all those months ago. He kept mentioning how he wanted me to wear it for the Leavers Ball, so that’s what I’m going to do, even if I hate suits with a passion and I’d be much happier in a pair of comfy jeans. 

Once I finally put my hand on the blasted thing, I take it out of the wardrobe and start undressing. 

Then I sit down on the couch, my thighs sticking to the leather, to put my trousers on. I could do that up on my feet but I would have a 50% chance of falling on my face and I’d rather not show up for Baz’s big day with bruises so I’m sitting. It’s safer.

I slip my feet inside the trousers legs, and start pulling them up…

But it stays stuck around my thighs.

What the fuck?

They fit well last time I wore them, and none of my other clothes are tight like that. 

I try pulling on them a bit more, but no, I can’t get them much higher. I’d probably break them if I pulled too hard, so I simply take them off completely, laying them on the sofa, and walk towards the door, grabbing the shirt I was wearing before and putting it back on. 

“Daphne!” I shout once my door is open, loud enough for her to hear me, even if she’s downstairs. The manor is big, but it echoes like crazy, and we live in a limited part of it.

I go back to sit on the sofa, my suit discarded there, waiting for her to arrive. When she does, she has Elias in her arms. 

I resist the urge to ask her to let me hold him. 

“Simon?” Daphne asks, walking towards me. The baby is babbling. “What is it, honey?”

“Have you washed my suit or something?” I say, holding the trousers up to show her. “I’ve tried putting the trousers on but they don’t fit.”

Daphne’s whole expression changes, her eyes going a bit wide, before a slight flush spreads on her cheeks.

She looks down at Elias, tickling his belly. He giggles, and normally I would enjoy hearing the baby’s adorable laugh, but right now, I’m too intrigued by Daphne’s reaction.

What’s wrong with her?

“Daphne, what is it?”

**…**

**Daphne**

Merlin, he didn’t notice?

I thought he had noticed, but simply didn’t want to mention it, because he was ashamed, or something similar. 

I did it in the first place for him _not_ to get embarrassed, so in truth, I would have been fine with him not noticing. Crowley, why didn’t I think of spelling _all_ of his clothes. That wouldn’t have happened if I’d been more careful.

**…**

**Simon**

“Well…” she says, visibly uncomfortable, still looking down at her son and not at me. “You’ve gained a little bit of weight since you bought your clothes, honey. I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed because you needed new ones so I spelled the clothes you already own to be larger, so that they would continue to fit you. But I… I didn’t think of doing it to all of your clothes, just those you actually wear, but if you want, I can cast the spell on your suit, problem solved.”

It takes me a few seconds to process Daphne’s words.

She spelled my clothes larger.

I’ve gained weight, enough for Daphne to notice, and enough for her to cast a fucking spell on my clothes to make them larger. Enough for the part of my trousers that used to fit around hips when it was _close_ not to be large enough to go past my thighs while _open._

**…**

**Daphne**

There’s a flash of something in his eyes, and he looks down at himself, disbelief written all over his face.

He looks so lost, and confused, and it’s my fault.

“I’m sorry,” I say. His head shoots back up, his eyes boring into mine. “I should have told you I was altering your clothes instead of doing it behind your back. It was wrong.”

“Fuck yes, it was! I… Daphne…”

Panic replaces confusion in his eyes. 

“I’m really sorry, honey. But it’s not a big deal, alright? Now you know. Do you want me to spell your suit or not?” I ask softly.

Elias babbles something, reaching out with his arms towards Simon. It took him longer than I thought to notice Simon was here. I don’t think he’ll get to be carried right now, though.

Simon jumps on his feet, grabbing the suit, and shooting me an offended look. “No I don’t! I don’t want you to spell any of my clothes! Just… leave me alone.”

And with that, he rushes to the bathroom. 

I look at Elias. He tugs the collar of my shirt. “I thought I was helping him…” I whisper to him, before turning away. 

**…**

**Simon**

Once the bathroom door is closed and _locked_ , I strip completely, even my pants, and stand in front of the full-length mirror. It’s the only here, and it’s on the side of the bathroom that I don’t use, so I never look at myself in it. I didn’t have a mirror in the care homes, and the one at Watford was barely enough to see your face and the top of your chest, so I never grew accustomed to looking at my reflection.

Now that I’m doing it, I’m not sure if I should have kept not looking at myself, or if I should have done it sooner to prevent _this_ from being what I’d be staring at.

I can’t believe that… that ugly, fat kid looking right back at me is _me._ I don’t look like that in my head. 

I could tell that my body had changed over the months, it doesn’t feel the same when I run my hands on it as I shower, but I didn’t think I looked like that. 

I know there were times in my life when I looked skinny. Too skinny, Penny and Baz would say. When I could feel my ribs as I trailed a finger down my side. When my hip bone stuck out a little as I was lying down. 

I know that there were also times when I had abs to feel on my stomach, other times when it was softer. 

But I never for sure I had this body that I have right now. 

My thighs are big. They rub together. There were times when there was a gap, there.

I bring my hand down to squeeze my thigh. When I put my hand on Baz’s, it fits just right. My thumb can touch the seam line on the inside of his thigh and my pinkie can practically touch the other seam line. 

On _me_ , even if I spread my fingers as wide as I can, I can’t cover the surface of half of my thigh. 

No wonder the fucking trousers didn’t go past them. They’re so fucking big. 

I don’t want to look at them anymore. 

Instead, I turn around, because I don’t want to see my stomach either, and look at my butt instead. 

It’s big too. 

It jiggled a bit when I moved. 

When Baz squeezed my arse the first time, it was firm under his hand.

I turn around again, my stomach dropping as I look at it.

It’s not flat like it was before. 

The side of it, instead of looking like a straight line, is slightly curved, and there are a few thin, striped lines on the lower part of my stomach. Some on my thighs too. I think those are called stretch marks. I heard Daphne complain about them while she was pregnant with Elias. 

If even Daphne finds having them gross, then it must really be disgusting. 

My heart is beating faster than usual in my chest, my breathing laboured. 

_My chest_ , while we’re at it.

Of course, it has to have changed to. 

Like my stomach, it’s not completely flat anymore, instead there’s some fat there too. I put my hands on my chest, and I can bloody cup it, while all that was possible doing before was pinching the skin. 

I let my hands fall back along my body, my eyes moving up and down that disgusting fucking body. 

_My_ body.

It’s _my_ body.

 _I_ look like that.

I never thought chubby people were ugly. Penny for instance, she isn’t skinny, and she looks beautiful. 

But on _me_ it’s ugly.

My body isn’t supposed to look like that.

My body is supposed to look good.

_Hot._

Baz told me I was hot so many times.

Surely he doesn’t think that _this_ body looks hot. 

Fucking hell, my attractiveness was one of the few things left I had for myself, one of the few things that might make Baz want to stay with me a little longer, and now I don’t even have that anymore.

Baz is in the bloody football team, for Christ’s sake, he changes with fit blokes every week. Sees fit bodies all the time. _He_ has a fit body, with those abs that make my mouth water and his fucking muscled thighs that drive me mad when I feel them, firm and strong around my head.

He’s gonna be so fucking grossed out when he’ll see how I look like. 

He’s got the body of those fucking Greek statues, surely he expects the bloke he has sex with to at least have a nice body. Not to be fat like me.

I put my hand on my thighs, moving them up to my stomach, and my chest, pressing down hard.

I can feel the fat under my fingers, can see my fingers dig in the flesh.

It hurts a bit.

But that faint pain on my stomach is nothing compared the pain in my head, caused by all the things that fucking voice is telling. That voice I _know_ sounds exactly like _someone’s_ voice, though I refuse to admit that.

That voice that has been telling me I was a screw up for months.

_‘You’re so ugly.’_

_‘Have you seen how fat you’ve gotten?’_

_‘He will be disgusted when he touches you.’_

_‘You’ll be lucky if he even_ wants _to touch you after seeing you looking like this.’_

_‘You don’t deserve to be touched by him.’_

_‘You don’t deserve him.’_


	42. Chapter Forty

**Simon**

I look at myself in the rearview mirror to check if I still look like I’ve cried. It’s ridiculous, we left a while ago, of course my face has gone back to normal, but I’d hate for Baz to see me with bloodshot eyes and ask me what’s wrong. 

I’d hate for Baz to _know_ what’s wrong.

And today is his big day. I don’t want to make him worry about me today. He does that enough every other day.

Malcolm and I don’t talk the whole way to the White Chapel. It’s not awkward, though. I’d rather not talk to anyone right now. Except maybe Penny. And Baz.

He said I didn’t have to come to the speeches, that it would just bore me and that I didn’t have to inflict myself more time around mages than necessary. That he’d be over the moon if I only came to the ball.

Then he said that he didn’t even care that much if I came to the ball or not because my well-being mattered more to him than a stupid ball and that’s he’d rather me be home and alright than uncomfortable here. 

But I _want_ to be here, even if each steps makes the uneasy feeling in my stomach more present, and even if just _seeing_ the school makes me want to run back to the car. 

I want to be here because this is an important day for Baz. I want to be here because he has managed to be as brilliant as he always was and end up top of his classes -above even Penny, which is something I have been rubbing in her face for weeks- despite all the shit that happened this year, and I want to tell him how proud I am of him. I want to be here because I know Baz still struggles with the whole being gay thing and I want him to be able to take my hand in front of all those people and not be ashamed, even if it’s terrifying. 

I want to be here because I want to be here for him. It’s as simple as that. 

Still, when I walk in the White Chapel, my first instinct is to flee.

I don’t like being around a lot of people in general, it makes me uncomfortable and fidgety, but being around that many _mages_ , now that I don’t have magic and that I hate feeling other people’s magic… it’s going to be awful. 

At least, we didn’t arrive early. In fact, as we walk towards the seats, I see Baz settle behind a reading desk with a microphone on it. I try to make our eyes meet, and when they do, he gives me a sweet and discreet, but sincere smile that makes being here a little better.

Baz is happy to see me. 

**…**

**Baz**

Relief washes over me as I dive into the blue of his eyes. It feels so good to see him. I’m not even that anxious about making a fool of myself with my speech anymore.

I _shouldn’t_ make a fool of myself with my speech. Most of it was written by my mother when she was my age and was the one who had a speech to deliver. But there are those personal additions of mine, and those are the parts I’m nervous about.

I catch a last glimpse of Snow before I start speaking.

**…**

**Simon**

His voice is so soothing. I had forgotten how beautiful it sounded. It’s different on the phone.

There was a time when I thought sharing a room with Baz was like sharing a room with a siren. It turns out that I was right, but not right about the kind of siren he was. He definitely is the kind of siren that bewitches men with its voice. 

I try to pay attention to the words he’s saying because I don’t want him to think I don’t care, but I’m tempted to just close my eyes, sit back on my chair, and listen to the melody that his voice makes. 

**…**

**Baz**

I was thinking I could go say hi to Simon the moment I was done with that blasted speech, but that was without taking Penelope Bunce into account. As I prepare myself to _talk_ to him in person again after so long, I see her stand in front of him.

When I see the huge grin on his face, though, I think it’s worth waiting until he’s done with his best friend to talk to him. I’ll just go with my own best friends in the meantime. Surely Dev has criticism to give about my speech, and I would hate to keep my beloved cousin from bitching about every single thing I do. 

I can’t even reach the part of the room where Dev and Niall are before Fiona appears in front of me. Merlin, I was so focused on Simon I had forgotten she and my father were coming too. 

So I end up receiving compliments and congratulations from my father and aunt instead of rude comments from my cousin.

**…**

**Simon**

“Penny!” I exclaim when she waves at me. “I’m so happy to see you!”

She walks the rest of the distance between us, giving me a smile. She looks beautiful tonight, in a lovely dark purple dress so different from those skirts and knee high socks she usually wears. She even switched her glasses to contact -probably because their colour didn’t match her dress. It makes her look like an adult, not like a girl. 

I suppose that’s what we’re supposed to be, now. Adults. We’re 18, 19 for Penny, and Watford is over. 

I still feel like a kid most of the time.

“I’m happy to see you too, Si. It’s been too long.”

I slip my hands in my pockets, laughing nervously.

It has been a _long_ time.

The last time I saw Penny, I still had magic. 

I didn’t want to see her directly after Halloween, and then she went back to school and we started chatting on the phone so it just never happened. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I should have visited you.”

“How? You don’t have a car. _I_ should have visited you. But it’s in the past,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “We’re seeing each other now. That’s what matters. Tell me, how have you been since the last time we called?”

A few hours ago I spent a solid fifteen minutes crying in my bathroom because my reflection disgusts me.

Two nights ago I spent three house just sitting in the baby’s room crying, and then when he woke up, I fed him, and went back to his room to cry, but with snacks this time.

There were three days this week when the only reason I left my room was because Daphne wouldn’t let me take care of Elias if I was there, but I didn’t talk to anyone when I was in the living room. 

I haven’t had a conversation more complex than _hello, how are you, good what about you?_ with Baz in a week. 

“I’ve been fine,” I say, shrugging. “Just trying to keep myself busy. Help around the house. But what about you? How do you feel about school being over?”

**…**

**Baz**

I feel like I’ve waited forever for this moment when I eventually get to talk to Snow, as we are all on our way to the dining hall for the ball. 

Once he’s close enough, I give him the brightest smile I can. Fuck the people around and fuck my reputation. I’m too happy to see him to keep a straight face and pretend like seeing _his_ face isn’t the best thing that has happened to me in weeks.

“Hello, love.”

“Hi,” he answers with a shy smile, blushing. 

It’s probably because of all of these people around us. I can’t say _I_ am particularly enjoying the thought of revealing to every Watford student my age that I’m gay, and dating the Chosen One, but I’m also not going to pretend I’m _not_ gay and dating the Chosen One. I’ve been pretending for too long already.

He’s the brave one. He’s always been the brave one. But for once _I_ want to be brave. 

So I look at Simon, then at his hand, in a way that I hope makes my meaning obvious, and say “May I?”

He looks a bit hesitant, but after a few seconds, he nods. “Yeah.”

I slip my hand in his, and ignore the few gasps I hear from people right behind us. It doesn’t matter. _They_ don’t matter. All that matters is that Simon is here, with me, at long last. 

**…**

**Simon**

I can’t believe Baz is holding my hand at school. 

**…**

**Baz**

I take my time to really look. I’ve seen his eyes and messy curls in the crowd while I was giving my speech, but it’s not nearly the same thing as seeing him from up close. So close that I can see his moles.

I can’t wait for us to be behind a close door so that I can kiss each and every one of them. 

Then, I let my gaze wander lower.

“You’re not wearing your suit,” I say, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice.

He looks absolutely gorgeous in a suit. It doesn’t have to be the one I bought him, he could have taken one of mine for all I care, I just would have liked to see him wear some kind of formal clothes and not a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with an open plaid button down over it. 

He looks away. “I just wasn’t feeling like it. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I would have preferred you in a suit, sure, because I’m selfish and would have loved to check my beautiful boyfriend out all night, but I’d rather you be comfortable. My clothes are pretty enough for the both of us,” I say playfully, showing off the sleeve of my jacket. 

You can’t see it from afar, but my suit has a pattern on it, only a few shades darker than the background colour. It’s a great piece of clothing because it’s not as flamboyant as the suits I’d wear outside of school, but it still isn’t a plain suit, which is exactly what I wanted today. 

“Your clothes are always pretty enough for the both of us,” Simon answers, trying but not quite succeeding to match my cheerful tone. And he’s still not looking at me.

I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when I hear someone call my name.

“Hey, Pitch!” I close my eyes. Daniel, from the football team. A complete douchebag, but at least he defends his goal well enough. “Didn’t know you were a faggot.”

And here we go.

Simon drops my hand, turning around in a heartbeat.

“What did you just call him?”

He has this anger in his voice that used to be the only thing I ever heard in his voice. Brings me right back to all those years of hatred (on his part) and pining (on my part).

I turn around too, putting my hand on Simon’s shoulder to stop him from doing something stupid like running to Daniel to punch him, and then I stare right back at Daniel.

I give him a cold, but wide smile, and snap my fingers -for the dramatic effect- before making fire appear in my palm. I hear more gasps than when I took Simon’s hand, and Daniel’s face loses all of its colours. 

“Yes, Daniel,” I say with a honeyed voice. “What did you call me? I’m not sure I quite heard it?”

I did, though. Hear it. 

Surprisingly, considering I’ve been more or less out for 3 years, it’s the first time I hear it. It was kind of a punch in the guts, I must say.

“No… Nothing,” Daniel answers, fear in his voice as the fire still burns in my hand.

My smile grows bigger. “That’s what I thought. Now shut the fuck up and get out of my sight.”

**…**

**Simon**

That was so bloody hot.

**…**

**Baz**

“Did you just threaten him with _fire,_ ” Snow asks after we’ve started walking again. 

As an answer, I give him a smirk 

**…**

I think Daniel’s comment really affected Simon. He hasn’t taken my hand back, and he stays at a reasonable distance.

I knew it was something that might happen, but it makes my heart sting. I wish I could be all over him and drag him in the centre of the room to dance like all the other couples - _straight_ couples, I’m quite aware that none of the other queer couples that I know of are dancing together or holding hands either. 

So instead of dancing, we chat. Well, I ramble, Simon listens, nodding and sometimes laughing softly when I say something he finds funny. It’s nice and casual, but I want more. We’ve had our share of nice and casual talks when we were apart.

Now he’s with me and I’m aching for his touch.

So I slip my hands in my pockets, leaning closer to him. “How do you feel about going to our room?”

**…**

**Simon**

Our room.

He says it like it’s still as much mine as it’s his. As if I still belong in that room. 

But he also says it in that way that makes my heart flutter. Because it’s _our_ room and not his and my room. 

“I’d like that,” I say, letting out a breath.

All the magic around me feels suffocating. I couldn’t tell Baz, it’s his day, he chooses what we do, but fuck, I’m relieved to get out of here.

**…**

**Baz**

We sneak out discreetly, because I’d rather avoid hearing another _friendly_ comment about my being with Simon, and then walk to Mummers in silence. I know he’s probably nervous about being here, so I don’t try to start a conversation and simply give him time to think and, hopefully, relax. He’s been rather tense all evening. 

I see him hesitate as he’s about to step inside the room, as I’ve already walked through the door. 

Please don’t stop. Please come with me.

I offer him my hand. 

He takes it.

He follows me inside, and I’m not sure why it feels so significant, but it makes me want to burst into tears. 

No, actually, I know.

It’s because the first time I talked to him was because we were given this room together.

It’s because it’s in this room that I started noticing his lovely moles and how intense the blue of his eyes was.

Because it’s in this room that we had our most violent screaming matches, yelling horrors that I thought he could never forgive me for at one another.

Because it’s in this room that I fell in love with him.

Because it’s in this room that I dreamt of him as he was _right there_.

Because it’s in this room that I learnt most of what I know about Simon Snow.

Because it’s in this room that he kissed me, all those months ago.

Because it’s _our_ room, and for seven years, it was our _home._

**…**

**Simon**

I think I might cry.

I don’t even know if it would be good or bad tears, but I can already feel them prickling my eyes.

It’s so overwhelming, being around all those mages, and now being back in this room…

When I lost my magic, I assumed that this place, which had been my first home, was lost forever too. That I’d never return to it. That was without Baz and his desire to be alone with me, I suppose. 

“Are you alright, love?” he asks as he intertwines his fingers with mine.

I can’t help but tense at the feeling of his hand against mine in that way, thinking about how when we did this merely an hour ago, someone went and insulted Baz.

He told me that he expected to hear slurs thrown at us if we went around Watford acting like a couple. I thought I wouldn’t mind. It’s just _words_ after all. Baz has insulted me a million times and it didn’t… well, yes, it _did_ hurt, but it was because Baz always knew the thing to say to hurt me most.

I didn’t think hearing someone say… _that word_ would hurt me. But it did.

It did because when that bloke said it, there was so much disgust in his voice, like Baz and I being in love was a gross thing, like it was… wrong. 

Is that how Baz was made to feel about his homosexuality this whole time? 

He brings my attention back to the present by tugging on my hand, leading me to his bed. When we sit down on it, I notice that, on the other bed that used to be mine, the stuffed animals I got him for Christmas are cuddling. It makes me smile. 

“Simon?” he says.

I turn my head to look at him. There’s something burning in his eyes. Something familiar. Desire. It makes my head spin.

He wants me.

_‘Do you think he still will when your clothes won’t be hiding your body anymore?’_

Shut up. Don’t come and ruin this. 

Without further notice, Baz grabs the back of my neck and pulls me into a deep, passionate kiss.

Merlin, he must really be horny if he isn’t even kissing me slowly.

His hands are on the opening of my button down, and he pushes it off my shoulders and down my arms. I lift my hands off the bed to let him complete take it off, and I work on taking his own jacket off.

It’s hard because of his hand still on my neck and his lips relentlessly pressing against mine, so we break apart.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” he breathes out as he gets rid of his jacket and start quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt, uncovering his pale, sculpted chest, and taunt stomach.

Soon enough, his shirt is on the floor too, and he’s throwing itself at me like my lips are his life source, shifting to straddle my thighs.

_‘At least he’s got plenty of room to sit there.’_

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Baz slips his hand under my shirt and… and…

_‘He’s going to feel all of your fat. He’s going to be disgusted.’_

…and I push him away. “Please… don’t,” I tell him, looking fixedly at his collarbones -it’s actually convenient that he’s taller, sometimes.

He gives me a puzzled look.

“Simon…”

“It’s just… you’re cold.”

**…**

**Baz**

That never bothered him before. He said many times he loved how cold I was. 

Why doesn’t he want me to touch him? Did I do something wrong?

Or maybe he’s simply finally realized that I didn’t deserve to touch him. 

He brings me life with his touch. He makes me _feel_ alive, but he also _literally_ brings me life. He makes my heart beat faster, and makes my cheek flush. It’s almost as if I was a human being, when Simon Snow has his hands on me.

When I have _my_ hand on _him,_ those hands that have snapped the necks of countless rats and been on someone else when they should have only been on him, I can only soil him.

I take them off of him immediately, and sit back on the bed instead of his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he answers, and his voice sounds strange.

I can’t tell what the emotion in his voice is, but I know that there is _something._

“Do you want to… if I don’t touch your skin is it… okay to keep snogging?” 

He flushes.

“I… Uh… I’d rather not.”

I feel my stomach drop. 

Usually, Simon can’t keep his hands off me. I’m not being pretentious when I say that, it’s just the truth. The only time he didn’t fuck me mere minutes after I came home since I first went back to school was after what happened with Roman.

That he wouldn’t even want to snog after _5 weeks apart_ … it’s not normal. 

Nonetheless, I keep my composure and give him a small smile. 

“Okay, then. Do you want to cuddle, at least? You can go to your own bed if you don’t, I’m sure little Simon and Baz could make some room for you,” I say with a nervous laugh.

Please don’t go to your bed. Please don’t leave me, I just got you back.

“No, cuddles are fine. I just don’t want to have sex now.”

**…**

**Simon**

I _do_ want to have sex. Of course I want to have sex. He’s fucking gorgeous and I haven’t see him in weeks.

But I don’t want him to touch me. To see me.

He can’t be grossed out by my body if he can’t tell what it looks like.

But it’s easier to say I don’t want to have sex, so soon enough, I’m curled up against Baz, my head on his chest and my hand on his stomach, rubbing it, feeling the muscles under my fingers. 


	43. Chapter Forty One

**Baz**

I wake up when I feel Simon move against me. As I open my eyes, I see that he has turned to lie on his stomach, his chin digging in my chest where he’s resting it to be able to look at me. 

That’s definitely not the best angle to look at me. 

“Hello, love,” I tell him with a heavy voice, yawning.

It makes him smile. “Hey. I missed waking up next to you,” he confessed as he trailed his index finger on my chest, drawing abstract shapes. 

I raise my hand to brush a few curls off his face, giving him a sweet smile. “I missed it too. I missed _you_.”

I always missed him when I didn’t see him, for as long as I’ve known him, but since we’re a couple, it’s even worse. I need him as much as I need the blood flowing in his veins.

Ugh, thinking of blood now was a bad idea. My mind hasn’t been on my feeding, lately. It’s been a few days since I’ve paid the rats a visit. 

“Is there something wrong?” Simon asks, having probably noticed the change in my expression.

He’s becoming better at reading me. Or maybe I’m simply more open with him. I don’t need to pretend I’m emotionless like I used to, he knows very well I’m not.

“Nothing. I’m just… _thirsty_ ,” I say in a way that I hope will make my meaning clear.

Despite all the unspeakable things we did involving my fangs and his flesh, it’s still difficult to talk about my being a vampire with him.

A whole life spent believing yourself a monster doesn’t go away with a lover’s kiss.

He raises his wrist. “Do you want…”

It’s still unbelievable to me how surely he offers himself to me. How much he trusts me not to take more than he can give. 

Objectively, I know that it’s because it feels great for him, much like it does for me, but it still makes my heart flutter.

“If you don’t mind,” I answer. 

He giggles. It sounds so lovely. “Come on Basil, you know I don’t mind.” He crawls up until his lips are near my ear. “Wrist or neck?” he asks, his voice low and his breathing hot.

I feel my fangs pop out as my breath stays stuck in my throat. Merlin, he makes me so weak.

“Wrist or neck, love?” he asks again when I don’t answer, too lost in bloodlust -of maybe simply _lust_ to answer.

“I… neck. Please.”

“Go on then,” he says playfully, hovering his neck over my face, tempting me.

He’s a nightmare. 

I hook one of my legs between his and put my hands on his shoulders to flip us over so that he’s underneath me, pressing him down on the mattress. He gasps, looking at me with lustful eyes when our gazes meet. It makes me hungrier. Hungrier for his blood, hungrier for sex. Hungrier for _him._

“You know Snow… offering your neck to a vampire really isn’t your brightest idea…” I say, boring my eyes into his. 

I used to avoid looking at him too intensely when I was about to bite him or had just bitten him. Vampire thrall, you know? I don’t know if it’s a real thing, but just in case, I’d rather avoid making my boyfriend a puppet. 

“You know I live for the danger,” he answers, giving me a cheeky smile. Then, he tilts his chin presenting his gorgeous throat to me submissively.

It makes my head spin. I want to sink my fangs in it. To see blood running down it. The two other times I bit Simon here, I was careful not to let the blood go anywhere except in my mouth but today…

Today I want to make a mess. I was to see red on those white sheets. I want to bite hard enough to leave a mark, and not lick it enough for it to heal completely.

Warmth blooms in my stomach as I think about it and it disgusts me. I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want to _mark_ him.

But he wouldn’t let me touch him yesterday and it hurt. But I want to be reminded that he’s mine. That his body is, at least. 

It’s wrong, and more possessive than I should allow myself to be but…

“Baz, please.”

I stop thinking and let my fangs graze his delicate skin, feeling him swallow. 

And then I bite.

**…**

**Simon**

My back arches. 

It’s been months since the last time Baz bit my neck. It feels so good. Even the pain of the bite, before his venom makes it bearable, feels good, now. Because I know that it won’t hurt for long. Because it builds up the anticipation for this bliss that hits me when he starts drinking eagerly. 

It comes in waves.

It’s not mind blowing at first.

But it grows, and it grows, and it grows, until my body is like a bundle of sensitive nerves, and the slightest touch feels like _too much_ , the good kind of too much. 

Baz’s tongue on my neck when he’s biting me makes me see stars more than it ever could on my cock, and that’s saying something. 

I’m rock hard against his thigh, and I know he is too. 

He’s rutting against me uncontrollably as he licks and sucks at my throat and I think it could kill me.

It’s good, so good. 

Right as I feel myself tip over the edge, too lightheaded from the blood loss, he retreats. 

I expect him to lick my wound clean and close, and that’s what he did the other times, but instead, I just feel his hot breath as he pants. 

I don’t care about the wound. It’s not bleeding enough to be dangerous for me, and I’m much too far gone to care.

My hand is unbuttoning my jeans before I can put much thought into it.

**…**

**Baz**

I knew it, seeing his bloor run down his neck from the bite marks until it stains my bed sheets is mesmerizing. It awakens something primal in me. It’s nothing like seeing a love bite. 

I’ve heard that vampires mate for life, and that they’re very possessive of their mate. Maybe the vampire part of my brain sees Simon as my mate, and this mark and this blood as signs that I own him.

But… no. I don’t _own_ Simon… 

But he’s mine.

Only mine.

Mine, mine, _mine_.

He’s given his body to me.

He’s given his heart to me.

He’s given his blood to me.

And I’ve given him my body, my heart, my soul -if I have one- in return.

So maybe I do own him, in a way.

But he owns me as well. Completely.

A deep moan in my ear brings me back to reality and my eyes fly to Simon’s face. He’s all flushed, eyes and mouth half open and… and I can feel him move under me. 

I look down and…

Merlin and fucking Morgana, I’m going to come in my pants.

My bite aroused him so much that he started wanking. 

He moans again and my eyes roll back.

I balance myself to be able to have one hand free and start working on opening my own trousers. I’d rather reach down and stroke Simon myself but he’s enjoying himself too much for me to dare interrupt him, so I’m going to take care of my own aching cock instead, listening to his beautiful pants and moans and groans.

I’m not the one touching him, but when he reaches orgasm, it’s with my name on his lips, which brings me to complexion too, my face buried in the crook of his neck.

I’m going to need to burn those bed sheets.

**…**

**Simon**

I’m breathing heavily, my mind still fuzzy with pleasure, with come on my hand and my shirt, but I haven’t felt happier in a long time. 

Baz is here. 

Baz is lying next to me, and he’s as much of a mess as I am, and he’s here.

And he…

And he’s pushing himself up on trembling arms to look at me. 

“I wouldn’t mind waking up like that every day,” he comments with a grin. 

“Blood and an orgasm, just what you need, to start the day well, huh?”

He laughs at that.

“Yeah… but not quite all I need.”

There’s a mischievous gleam in his eyes when he says it, and before I can even wonder why, he reaches down, pulls my dirty hand up to his lips, and starts licking my come off of it.

I cover my mouth with my other hand to muffle the embarrassing sounds I’m making as he sucks on my finger in a very suggestive way, his eyes boring into mine.

I have to close my own eyes before I get hard again.

He’s so fucking hot. His devilish tongue stops moving between and around my finger, and soon, I feel my hand being pushed away from my mouth and that devilish tongue licking my teeth, demanding. 

I part my lips and let Baz kiss me as he wishes. He tastes faintly of blood and come. It’s driving me mad. 

“Now, _this_ ” he says when he pulls back, a string of spit still linking out lips. “is just what I need to start the day well.”

**…**

**Baz**

I feel like this amazing morning in our room at the top of the tower was just a dream. And if it was real, it was only a moment lost in time, a single ray of sunshine shining through a raging storm, because once we’re back at home, Simon is distant.

Not quite as much as he was after Halloween, thank Merlin, but more than the last time I saw him.

Ever since I went back to school after Christmas break, he’s grown more and more distant each time I visited. 

To everyone else, it’s probably not even noticeable, but I can feel this barrier he’s building between us in my bones. 

He doesn’t pin me to a wall to snog the life out of me whenever my parents or siblings aren’t in his direct field of vision anymore.

He doesn’t try to discreetly hold my hand when we’re sitting on the couch of the living room anymore.

His smiles aren’t as bright and wide as they used to be when I compliment him.

He talks less, nods and hums more when we have a chat. They feel more like monologues than conversations.

But the biggest changes are those I notice when we’re between the four walls of my room. 

He doesn’t sleep here on every night like he used to. Actually, more often than not, I sleep alone.

We snog, and laugh, and roll around in bed, but when I try to go further, he gives me this uncomfortable smile and suggests to just cuddle instead. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love cuddling with Simon, but the last time he fucked me was more than a month and a half ago and I’m starting to really be frustrated. Wanking is nice, but I wish I could have _more_ . I wish it could at least be _his_ hand jerking me off. 

But no.

He hasn’t touched me in a sexual way since school ended. He hasn’t let me touch him in a sexual way since school ended. 

He hasn’t let me see him naked, or even simply shirtless, either, though he has unbuttoned my shirt a few times. 

So today, when our snogging gets heated and I try to to pull his shirt up with one hand and slip the other inside his pants to squeeze his arse, I expect rejection.

And rejection I get. 

“Baz… Please, no.”

So I take my hands off of him and roll over, lying on my back next to him. The friction of my tight trousers on my erection really doesn’t help. 

I hold back a sigh that wants nothing more than to be let out.

I can’t show any of my frustration, because I don’t want Simon to feel like it’s wrong of him to say no. It’s really not and I’d rather he stops me than he lets me touch him while being uncomfortable the whole time, but fuck, I just wish I knew _why_ he keeps saying no.

Is it my fault? Have I done something to make him uncomfortable with being touched? Does he not like my touch anymore?

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice full of guilt.

He always does. After each of those brutally interrupted make out sessions. 

It makes me even more frustrated. He doesn’t have to say sorry for not wanting sex. He shouldn’t even _feel_ sorry for not wanting sex. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I answer, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. If I see his flushed cheeks and red lips and shiny eyes I’m never going to cool down. 

He shrugs. Typical. “I’m going to go,” he says, already sitting up. “It’s late anyway.”

This time I can’t keep my sigh from coming out. 

It’s the fourth night in a row he doesn’t sleep in my bed, which means it’s the fourth time in a row I won’t be able to sleep well -or at least, as well as it gets, I never really sleep _well_. 

I rub my eyes with the heels of my palm. It’s just because I have something in my eyes -yes, both of them- _not_ because I’m crying. I wouldn’t _cry_ because my boyfriend doesn’t want to sleep with me, in any meaning of the words, that’s just ridiculous. 

“Okay then,” I tell him as I feel the mattress move, the telltale sign that he’s standing up. “Good night, love.”

“Good night, Baz.”

Footsteps.

The creaking of the wooden floor.

The door opening.

Then closing.

And he’s gone.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz looked fed up.

No, not just fed up.

 _Sad_.

He looked sad and it’s my fault. Because I can’t let myself be touched by him. Because I can’t even bear for him to _look_ at me if I don’t have clothes on.

I want to touch _him_ , I’m _dying_ to touch him. To make him feel good, so, so good. To see him flush and wriggle underneath me, to hear him moan and make him scream. To feel his skin, to taste his skin. I want him boneless and panting, more relaxed than he ever is. 

Fuck it.

I put my hand on the door handle and press down on it.

I don’t take time to think. If I think, I’m going to chicken out and run to my room. I want this. I want to have sex with Baz, and for some reason, he seems to want to want to have sex with me too. I just have to make it so that he can’t see or touch my body.

I walk to the wardrobe.

There are some perks to the things Baz likes in bed, I suppose. 

“Simon?” I hear him say. “What are you doing?”

I take two of his ties, the ones that feel softer to the touch, and turn to him.

“I want you. Do you want me?”

**…**

**Baz**

More than I ever fucking wanted anything.

I nod vigorously. I don’t trust myself to speak, and I would hate to fuck up whatever is happening by opening my mouth. 

“Good,” he says, walking towards the bed. 

The closer he gets, the more I feel excitement rise in me. It makes me want to grin like an idiot.

He stops right in front of me, and shows me one of the… ties -?- he got from my wardrobe. “This one’s for your hands.” I gulp and he shows the other. “And this one’s for your eyes. Is that alright?”

I feel my mouth water.

We’ve talk about blindfolding me, months ago, but we never actually did it. My heart beats faster in my chest as I nod again.

“Verbal answer, Basil,” he says with that bossy voice.

Oh, okay, so we’re really going for it tonight. Awesome. 

“Yes,” I say, 

I purposely avoid saying anything after yes just to hear him say “Yes who?” 

“Yes, sir,” I answer, looking down, though not without a smirk on my lips.

I know he loves when I call him that, sometimes. When I stop being annoying for five fucking seconds and am obedient. Submissive.

I can’t say it doesn’t get me off too.

“Strip then,” he orders as he crosses his arms on his chest.

It makes his shoulders look even broader. I might swoon. He’s so fucking hot.

I make a show of taking my shirt off, because even though all I want is to give myself to him as quickly as I can, I want him to enjoy himself too. I know that once he’ll have bonded my hands -and blindfolded me, holy fuck- he’ll focus on _me_ . On _my_ pleasure. That’s just how Simon is. 

Once, he tied my hands and did a million amazing things to me, making me come harder than I had in my entire life, and wanked in the bathroom afterwards even though I offered to make him come myself. 

I throw my shirt on the floor -after months of having sex with the barbarian that Snow is, I have much less consideration for my clothes- and work on taking my trousers and pants off.

For that, I lie back down, looking at Simon in the eyes as I unbuckle my belt and pop the button of my trousers. I pull my fly down, letting my fingers drag along my cock through my pants, and then I hook my fingers under the waistband of both my trousers and pants. When I lift my hips to get them off, Simon’s gaze drops to my crotch. _Good._

He grabs the bottom of my trousers and pulls them down himself, infinity more quickly than I would. He’s lucky enough to manage pulling my pants down at the same time.

They soon end up on the floor, along with my socks, and I’m naked. 

Simon climbs on the bed and crawls up my body, those ties still in his hand. He stops when his face is over mine, and he gives me a sweet look before he tucks some of my hair behind my ear, leaning down to whisper in it. “Good boy.”

I shudder, and it makes him smile. 

“Cross your wrists, sweetheart.”

He only ever calls me that in bed. Usually, it’s babe, or baby. Love, when he’s feeling like it. 

I do, raising my arms over my head.

He smiles again as he starts tying my wrists together. I let out a pleased sigh when he tightens the knot. I can already feel myself relax.

When we have sex like that, it’s almost therapeutic. I give up control, and let Simon have it. I don’t have to worry about anything, just let him take care of me. For the minutes, hours if I’m lucky, during which I’m at his mercy, I can _let go_. 

“Do I have to tie you to the headboard or will you behave?”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to behave.”

I’m not saying it because I plan to be a brat. It’s quite the opposite. I want to obey him completely tonight. I’m just not sure how much control I’ll have over my reactions after not having had sex with him in weeks, and I know that if I am to be good for him, I mustn’t move my hands. So I’d rather he makes sure I _can’t_ move my hands.

He does. 

I tug on my restraints, to see if they’re tied well enough. They are. He’s become good at this, too. 

“Now your eyes,” he says, taking the second tie in both hands. 

This is the most exciting part. It’s new. 

I can’t wait to see if Niall was right and the feelings are indeed exacerbated when you can’t see. 

I lift my head enough for him to wrap the tie around my head, tying the knot on the side of my head instead of the back as I expected, which musn’t look great but definitely sounds more comfortable than lying down with a knot behind my head. 

I can’t see anything. He took a soft tie, but one made of good fabric. It makes it completely opaque. 

It’s a bit disorienting, but soon, I hear Simon’s voice, which immediately soothes me. 

“Everything alright?” he asks, his hand on my cheek. 

His thumb is gently stroking the part where my skin meets the tie. 

“Yes, sir.”

I feel his lips against mine, kissing me slowly, sweetly, just how I like. He rests his forehead against mine when he pulls back, our breaths melting together. “What do you say if you want me to stop?”

“Anathema.”

“Good.”

I feel him move, but I can’t say exactly where he is nor in which position. I want to ask him to come back, to kiss me a little longer, but clearly I’m not the one calling the shots right now, so I keep my mouth shut.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes out.

“You too.”

He chuckles. “You can’t see me, Baz.”

“So? I don’t need to see you. You’re always beautiful.”


	44. Chapter Thirty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS  
> panic attack  
> references to sexual assault  
> binge eating / vomiting
> 
> If reading about this could upset you, I advice you don’t read this chapter, I’ll write a summary on the end notes if you still want to know what happened in the chapter
> 
> I never know how to give the trigger warnings, Jesus Christ
> 
> Also this is irrelevant but with this chapter, this story is officially longer than A Study in Trust

**BEWARE OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS**

_I was so focused on all the little things that showed that our couple was in a crisis that I didn’t realize_ he _was going through a crisis. I didn’t see that he wasn’t okay, didn’t pick up on all the clues. And as for the clues I did pick up, I didn’t put the pieces back together the right way. Not until I was face to face with part of the evil that was eating away at him._

**...**

**Simon**

It started well.

Baz was enjoying what I was doing, he was quite enthusiastic about it, sighing softly and moaning and gasping, his back arching or his hips thrusting up when I moved back to seek contact.

And then he wasn’t.

I don’t know why, I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what I did wrong.

I was busy leaving marks that never last on his perfect chest and biting his hard nipples lightly, my hand pulling his hair and holding his head back the way he likes, and telling him sweet things when he made a sound or leaned into my touch like “That’s it baby, you’re doing great” or “Yeah darling, you like that don’t you?” when I noticed his chest was going up and down faster than it should, his breathing uneven. 

I immediately stopped kissing him, and pushed myself up on my knees to be able to hold his face. He didn’t even flinch when he felt my hands on his cheeks.

“Baz? Baz, love, are you alright?”

I get no answer.

My heart starts pounding in my chest as I pull this stupid fucking tie away from his eyes so that I can bore mine into them.

I’m staring right at the grey of his irises and yet it feels like he isn’t looking at me. His eyes are empty, distant. 

And filled with tears. 

I start to feel panic rise inside me.

“Baz!” 

I work on the knot holding his wrists together with trembling hands. “Baz, love, it’s Simon, can you hear me?” I ask as his hands are finally free. 

They’re trembling too.

Merlin what’s happening?

No, I know what’s happening. I’m just not sure how to deal with it, when it’s getting harder to breathe for me too by the second. 

I manhandle him into a sitting position as best as I can, leveling my face with his and cupping his face again. I try to speak calmly. “Baz. It’s Simon. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

**…**

**Baz**

A hand pulling my hair, keeping my face in place. 

The ache in my jaw, the tears in my eyes, the disgusting groans in my ear, the bitter taste in my mouth.

_Darling._

_You feel so good._

_Darling._

_Merlin, you were born for this._

_Darling._

_You fucking slut._

_Darling._

_You looked ravishing on your knees._

_Darling._

“Baz!”

_Darling._

“Baz, love.”

_Darling._

“Baz, it’s Simon.”

Simon.

Simon.

Simon, not…

_Simon._

He’s looking at me with worry in his blue eyes.

Blue eyes. Moles. Tawny skin. Bronze hair. “Simon…”

But I can’t move my head, someone’s holding it, I can’t move, I can’t get away, _I can’t move._

**…**

**Simon**

There’s finally something in his eyes, but I’m not sure it’s any better than when they were empty.

Horror. Complete and utter terror. 

His lip is trembling too now, tears are spilling from his scared eyes, and he’s hiccuping. Not quite sobbing yet but I can tell he isn’t far from it. It knocks the air out of my chest.

I hate this, I hate seeing Baz in such distress, I hate not knowing what to do, I hate not even bloody knowing what put him in that state. 

“Baz, you’re safe love, it’s okay,” I tell him, because despite how much my heart hurts from beating too fast, and how much _I_ would need to calm down, he needs it more. I rub circles on his wet cheeks with my thumbs. “It’s me, it’s Simon, I’m here, you’re okay Baz.”

He jerks away from me, kicking my legs with his feet to keep me away before pulling his own legs close to his chest and closing his arms around them, his breathing becoming more laboured. 

I reach out, trying to take his hand or put my hand on his knee or something but he pushes me away again.

“No! Stop! Please, stop…” he sobs, curling up on himself even more. 

My heart sinks.

How did I not think about it. I’m a fucking idiot. 

“Baz. Baz, love, I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, but it’s me, it’s Simon. You’re safe, you don’t have to worry, no one will hurt you. Would you breathe with me? Look at me Baz. Please look at me.” I wait for his eyes to stop moving around frantically and stare back at mine. They’re still full of tears, and he’s sobbing now, his shoulders shaking. It breaks my heart. I want to hold him in my arms but I can’t. I’d only freak him out more. “Can you breathe with me, babe?”

I don’t wait for an answer, he probably wouldn’t be capable of giving me one, and instead I start breathing deeply, watching him to see if he imitates me.

Some of my own panic decreases when he does.

It takes several minutes for him to fully calm down, no more sobs or tears or heavy breathing or gasps. 

But his eyes are still bloodshot and his cheeks tear streaked. 

I crawl closer to him, looking at him with concerned eyes.

“Can I touch you?”

He nods.

I take his hand in mine, and bring him to my lips to kiss his knuckles. “I’m going to get you something warm to put on, okay love?”

**…**

**Baz**

It’s not really a question, and we both know it, so I don’t answer. I simply let him get out of bed, walking to my wardrobe with the ties in hand. He puts them back where they belong and rummages through my things to find one of my pyjamas. He happens to pick one of my favourite ones to wear, a dark green silk set, and the softest thing that has ever been in contact with my skin. 

He helps me put the top on, and even if it makes me feel like a child, I let him. I’m too exhausted to protest. I’m honestly not sure if I could have lifted my arms on my own so I’m glad for the assistance. He lets me put the trousers on, though. 

Once I’m done, he climbs in bed with me again, still wearing his clothes, which, because he is Simon Snow, doesn’t bother him. I saw him wear his clothes to sleep so many times over the years. 

“Can I hold you?” he whispers, looking up at me.

I nod. I turn off the lamp on the bedside table, and then I’m lying down, shifting until Simon can wrap his arms around me. I nestle my head on the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. 

“Don’t start treating me like a fragile thing again,” I mumble when I notice how carefully he’s holding me. 

He did that enough after _it_ happened. 

“You just freaked out on me, Basil. Let me be cautious.”

There’s an edge to his voice when he says it, he’s speaking a bit shortly. 

Guilt builds up in my stomach.

He must be disappointed. He wanted me, we were having a good time and I had to go fuck things up. None of us even got off.

Maybe I should wank him or something. Make up for it. 

I trail my fingers along his waistband and he jerks away. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You didn’t come.”

He scoffs, and I imagine he rolled his eyes at me in disbelief. “ _Baz._ You just had a fucking _panic attack_. I don’t bloody want you to jerk me off.”

I take my hand back, holding it close to my chest. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper weakly.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks, his voice a bit softer than before, but also full of confusion.

“You came back to my room to have sex and I ruined it all. You didn’t even get off.”

He wanted to fuck and what he got was whatever that mess was.

Good job Baz, really, keep ruining everything, you’re bloody brilliant at that.

“Baz…” he sighs. “Baz _I don’t care._ Yeah, sure, that’s not really not what I had planned, but it’s okay. But Baz… why did you use your safe word? I would have stopped earlier.”

**…**

**Simon**

Or I could have _noticed_ he was starting to be uncomfortable earlier. I like thinking that I’m good at reading Baz, when we’re in bed. Apparently I’m _not_ good at that. I couldn’t even see he was having a bloody panic attack.

A panic attack I _caused_ him to have. I still don’t know how, but it can’t be anything else than my doing. 

He shifts, cuddling up to me more. “I don’t know. I… I didn’t realize that I was getting lost in disturbing thoughts until they were too overwhelming to even speak. I was… I was lost in my head, I didn’t think about it. The safe word, I mean.”

I slide my hand up his back until it’s in his hair, stroking it softly. He sighs contentedly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier than I did.”

“Don’t apologize. You noticed early enough.”

That’s not how I feel but I’m not going to debate it.

“Do you know what triggered you? It must be something I’ve done, and I’d like to know what so that I won’t do it again.”

The last thing I want is to put him in that state ever again. 

He takes a few seconds to think about, and then he says, “I think that what made me feel uncomfortable in the first place was the fact that you called me darling because… um… well… it’s…” He stops, and takes a breath. “Roman called me that, and you don’t usually call me that so it… my brain made a wrong connection, but I think that the reason why I went from just uneasy to really panicking was the blindfold. It… It prevented me from seeing you and I suppose that because you said darling my brain started making me think of Roman and because I couldn’t see I couldn’t be _sure_ that it was you even though I knew it and… yeah. I suppose that’s the reason.”

**…**

**Baz**

It’s still difficult talking about Roman. It’s been months, I thought it would get easier, but it doesn’t. The fact that I know it upsets Simon makes it even harder.

I feel him press a kiss to my cheek. “Okay then. I won’t call you that anymore and we’ll keep the ties for your hands, how does that sound?”

I smile, and I hope he can feel it against his skin.

“That sounds great.”

**…**

He stays with me that night, thankfully. Up until the moment he fell asleep, I still feared he might leave.

It gives me hope.

Maybe things will get better. 

**…**

They don’t.

If anything, it gets _worse._

On top of not wanting me to touch him for reasons that I have yet to discover, he is hesitant about touching me since that night when I had a panic attack. 

“... So we haven’t done more than chaste snogging in almost two weeks.”

Niall hums over the phone. 

I feel like a schoolgirl, talking about my boy problems with my best friend on the phone, but it’s something I’ve always done with Niall. That poor bloke has heard me rant about Snow for _years_ now. I should buy him flowers or something to thank him for his patience.

Except before, when I talked to Niall about Snow, it was silly teenage pining. Now, I’m telling him that my boyfriend won’t touch me or let me touch him. That’s really not the same kind of conversation.

While Niall laughed and called me dramatic back then, he’s being serious now.

“And how long has it been since you two last fucked?”

“2 months.”

“Oh. I mean, there was school, but even with that… you never went this long without having sex, in the past, right?

“ _No_.”

There were times when Snow practically fucked me _every single day._ Now I don’t even remember how glorious he looks naked.

“Do you really have no idea why?”

“If I knew what I had done for him not to want me anymore, I would have found a way to fix it by now, Niall,” I answer, more coldly than I want to.

It’s not Niall’s fault my relationship isn’t at its best, I shouldn’t snap at him.

“Get off your high horse, I’m trying to be helpful here. Baz, you always had something to say about every little thing Snow does, haven’t you noticed anything? A change in his behavior? Even if it seems like it has nothing to do with your relationship, it may be linked. I don’t know if Dev told you about that, but there was a time when it wasn’t all great for us either, and it wasn’t because of something inherent to our couple. My father had granted us with his _delightful_ presence during the holidays before our 7th year, and since he’s that much of a great father, he wouldn’t call me Niall no matter how many times my mum, Alana and I told him that that was my name, he kept saying that I was his daughter, he pointed out all the things I’m most dysphoric about and all sorts of nice things like that. And you know at this point, I was starting to feel more comfortable in my skin, and I had been able to let Dev see me naked and have sex with me, and my father ruined that. I didn’t let Dev touch me for _weeks_ when we went back to school. I kept pushing him away and snapping at him even though nothing was his fault. Of course, not having sex _and_ fighting… it wasn’t good for our relationship. At all. But someday, he got fed up and asked me what the fuck was wrong with me and there were some more screams and lots of tears but eventually I told him and we worked it out. It wasn’t easy, far from it, and it took time but we worked it out. Have you even tried _asking_ Snow if there’s something wrong or have you just assumed it must be your fault like you always do?”

I’m too stunned by everything Niall just told me to answer.

I had no fucking idea that had happened. How could I not know? I’m their _best friend_ , to both of them. How could I not notice they were going through a difficult time, and why didn’t they _tell_ me? Did they think I wouldn’t care? Or did none of them trust me not to repeat whatever he would say to me to the other?

“Baz? You’re still with me mate?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just… Why didn’t you ever tell me? That thing with your father, and Dev?”

“It’s not something I wanted to talk about,” he answers with a short, nervous laugh. “When it happened, it would have been too hard to try and explain my feelings to you, and once it was over, I wanted to forget it. It’s not something I enjoy thinking about. I only told you about it now because I wanted you to realize that it may not be something you’ve _done._ I mean, Snow has had a lot on his plate this year, he might just be going through a rough time.”

**…**

**Simon**

My stomach hurts

I haven’t opened that drawer in weeks. Not since Baz’s Leavers Ball. I had been tempted to, many times, especially when the sky was dark and my heart was heavy, but I didn’t.

But I’m so _hungry._

I’m eating less at the moment to lose some of that fucking weight, which means I’ve been going to bed with my stomach growling more often than not lately. Usually, I ignore it. It’s not like I’m not used to hunger. And it’s the summer, so really, it’s quite fitting. 

Brings me right back to the care homes.

But it’s been too many days since the last time I _wasn’t_ hungry when I went to bed, and I just had a nasty nightmare and…

… And it wouldn’t hurt, right? Baz eats snacks sometimes and he’s still fit.

My stomach gurgles another time and I push the covers off and practically run to the desk. I sit on the floor, next to the drawer, and open it.

There are so many things to choose from. Chocolate, candies, some of those little cakes with dried fruits in them that the twins love. Two cans of Coke and a can of Lipton Ice Tea. Crisps -regular, not salt and vinegar, only Baz likes that crap. 

There are so many things to choose from and they’re all mouthwatering.

And my stomach hurts.

**…**

**Simon**

My stomach hurts. 

Open bags of food and empty cans of soda lay on the floor around me and my stomach hurts.

I’m going to be sick.

_‘Look at how much you’ve eaten’_

_‘You’re disgusting’_

_‘It was well worth it starving yourself if you’re eating all of that shit now, you fucking idiot’_

I grab the last handfuls of crisps at the bottom of the bag and push them inside my mouth, chewing just enough to swallow without choking, and I drink the rest of my Ice Tea can to make it go down.

I feel nauseous.

I retch and I have to close my mouth not to spit out my drink.

I try swallowing it down again and I feel sicker.

My stomach hurts. 

I retch another time, feeling bile rise in my throat, and this time I jump to my feet and rush to the bathroom.

My knees hurt when they hit the cold hard tiles and my hands hurt from gripping the toilet seat and my throat hurts and burns each time I heave.

And my stomach still hurts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this chapter  
> Baz has a panic attack triggered by Simon calling him “darling”, something Roman called him when he assaulted him, and by the fact that he couldn’t see it was Simon he was with due to the blindfold. Simon helps him calm down, and they talk about it afterwards before going to bed. Time passes, Baz explains that his relationship with Simon is getting worse, which he tells Niall on the phone, to get his advice on the situation. Meanwhile, Simon binges on snacks he keeps in his room because he is hungry from having reduced the amount of food he eats, and he ends up throwing it all up


	45. Chapter Thirty Three

**Baz**

I’m walking out of my room to go feed when I hear it.

Sobbing.

Loud, uncontrollable, heart wrenching sobbing.

Simon.

I only realize I’ve run to his room when I face the door. Please, may it be open. I press on the handle, and, thankfully, it opens. I look around the room for him, my eyes falling on the unmade bed, the dirty clothes on the chair near his bed, the empty bags of food on the floor, the tablet left there on the sofa, but not  _ him. _

The sobbing is louder now, though. And it comes from the right.

My eyes fly to the bathroom door. Light is filtering under it and on the sides. 

The bathroom, of course. 

My heart beats a little slower now that I know where Simon is. It’s still beating too fast, because I still don’t know what’s wrong with him nor in what state he is nor how he will react to seeing me, but it’s better than before. At least the pounding in my chest isn’t painful anymore. 

I walk across the room to the bathroom and open the door without knocking, running to him when I see him. 

He’s sitting in front of the toilet, his arms crossed on the seat and his forehead resting against his arms.

There’s a lingering smell of vomit in the room. Merlin, what happened.

I put my hand on his shaking shoulders, which makes him jump.

“Baz?” he says, startled, as he looks at me with his beautiful blue eyes full of tears.

Fat tears that are rolling down his red cheeks. His nose is red too, and there’s some snot running from it.

He’s such a mess.

What the fuck happened for him to be in such distress.

I can’t think about it much longer because suddenly I’m being crushed in his arms as he sobs even more, his face buried in my chest. I’ll have to cast a good cleaning spell on my shirt.

I don’t try to ask him what’s wrong now, trying to explain would most likely make it even harder to breathe for him, so instead I just hold him, kissing his hair and his forehead, stroking his curls soothingly and whispering sweet, calming words to him, until his breathing becomes even and tears aren’t flowing from his eyes anymore. Yet he doesn't move back immediately, letting me hold him a little longer. I don’t mind. I don’t mind in the slightest. 

Eventually, he raises one of his hands to wipe his tears and free himself from my embrace, simply sitting in front of me, on the cold tiles of the bathroom. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask softly.

He circles his knees with his arms and rests his chin on them, looking at the floor.

It’s okay.

I can wait.

**…**

**Simon**

_ Can you tell me what happened? _

Can I?

Can I tell Baz that I disgust myself?

That I can’t look at my body in a mirror?

That I’m afraid he’ll be disgusted as well if he sees me without the safe barrier of my large clothes?

That I just threw my guts up because I ate my entire stash of snacks in one go because I was so  _ hungry _ ?

Would he understand?

Surely with a body like his, he must  _ love  _ what he sees in the mirror. 

“It’s silly,” I tell him, because it is.

I shouldn’t make such a fucking big deal out of having put on a few pounds but I can’t help it. I’ve been skinny my whole life, my body isn’t supposed to look like that.

“I don’t care, tell me anyway. Even if it’s silly.”

The thing is I still don’t know how to say it. 

If I just open my mouth and say the first thing that comes to my mind it will be a disaster.

But if I think about it too long I probably won’t find my words anyway and get frustrated and it will be a disaster.

“I hate how my body looks,” I blurt out, still staring at my feet.

**…**

**Baz**

Well, that’s not something I’d qualify as ‘silly’. 

My stomach drops when I’m reminded of where exactly we are and how I found him.

“Simon… You don’t… Do you make yourself throw up?”

His head jerks up and he stares at me with wide eyes. My heart clenches. 

“What?” he exclaims, shock in his voice. He shakes his head. “No! Christ, of course not. Baz, no, I swear I don’t,” he says, reaching out to put both of his hands on my arm and looking at me straight in the eyes.

His are sincere, and his voice is sure. He isn’t lying. Snow isn’t great at lying at all, I can usually tell quite easily when he is.

“Really? You’re not lying to me, are you?” I ask, just for confirmation. 

He shakes his head again.

“I promise. I… It’s just that tonight I… I was… you know… hungry because well, I haven’t been eating much lately, and uh… so… I kind of… ate all the snacks I had and of course it was too much and that’s why I threw up. But I  _ promise  _ I didn’t make myself vomit. Ever.”

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t know if he believes me. I hope he does.

It’s true, I want to lose weight, but I wouldn’t do…  _ that _ to lose it. 

I’ve just been eating less.

“So tonight, it was just because you ate too much and were too full, no other reason?” he asks, to be sure, I suppose.

“Yes.”

He hums, and move his arm to take one of my hands in his. “Can you tell me what you don’t like about your body? You know you’re perfect to me, so it’s a little difficult figuring out what you would hate about it.”

_ You’re perfect to me _ . A smile grows on my lips. He can be so sweet when he talks to me.

_ ‘He wouldn’t be saying that if he had seen you naked now that you’ve gotten fat.’ _

Shut up. 

“It’s just… I… You don’t  _ know  _ what I look like right now, Baz. You… You remember how I looked like  _ before  _ when I still looked good. I’ve… gotten fat since the last time you saw my body,” I admit with a small voice.

“I’m certain you still look good,” he answers, rubbing circles with his thumbs on the back of my head. “ _ But _ ,” he adds when he sees me open my mouth. “I can understand that you may not like the way your body looks. I know it can be difficult, not hating what you see in the mirror.”

I snort.

How could he?

“How could you. You’re perfect.”

So fucking perfect. His stomach is completely flat. His thighs aren’t big and they’re toned. He doesn’t have those stupid stretch marks anywhere on his beautiful, thin, nicely muscled body.

He chuckles, and I see that his eyes try to catch mine. “Maybe that’s what  _ you  _ think, but I can tell you that there are things I don’t like about myself.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

I’m not asking to be mean, I genuinely wonder what the fuck he wouldn’t like about his body.

Probably to prove whatever point he’s going to make, he takes his shirt off. I can’t say I’m mad at it. 

He puts his hands on his hips.

“I’m too skinny. My hip bones show too much.” He moves his hands to run it along his ribcage. “Same thing for my ribs. My hands are too bony. I find that unsightly, but not enough to force myself to eat more. It’s difficult for me to put on weight, probably because, you know, I’m dead, so I’d most likely just end up feeling uncomfortable full all the time for not enough results.” 

Lucky him, he doesn’t get fat. He doesn’t say it like he’s bragging, though. He sounds… irritated that he can’t gain weight easily.

So yes, I do have parts of my body that I don’t like, even if you think that it looks perfect,” he continues. “We all have insecurities, Simon.”

I mean, I see his point, I guess. But I would still prefer if my bones show a bit rather than to feel all this fat when I touch my body.

There’s a moment of silence, before Baz says, a tad hesitantly. “Do you think you could show me the parts of yourself you don’t like. We would be on equal footing, that way,” he says with a sweet smile, waving at his bare chest.

I know it’s just a suggestion and that he won’t force me to take my clothes off, which makes me a bit more comfortable about the whole thing. I can decide not to.

But…

But it’s Baz.

And he just showed me his insecurities, even if it’s still hard for him to be vulnerable.

And he’s my  _ boyfriend _ , I’m not going to hide my

body from him forever. 

I take a deep breath. “Okay. But don’t make fun of me, ok? I know I look bad,” I say as I reach for the hem of my shirt, fidgeting with it.

“My, Simon, I would never. And I know you don’t look bad. You never do. Not in my eyes, at least. I can’t speak for other people, but they’re fools if they think you’re anything less than stunning.”

I blush at his words. I had forgotten how good Baz was at giving compliments, and how much he liked it. I remember one time when I felt particularly low about losing my magic, he told me all the things that made him love me, showering me in words of praise until I shut him up with kisses because I was overwhelmed by his kindness. 

“You know, it’s not because you think I’m pretty that other people have to,” I say with a smile, trying to make the atmosphere less heavy for when I… lift my shirt. 

“Well they should,” he answers in a playful tone. “It’s really an exhibit of bad taste not to think you’re handsome.”

My smiles widen a little bit and I extend my legs. I don’t need to be in such a defensive position anymore. 

One of my feet gets lost between Baz’s knees -the idiot hasn’t even considered he might be more comfortable if he sat normally instead of on his heels. 

“I vividly remember you telling me that the fact that you liked me in the first place showed  _ you  _ had bad taste.”

He gives me one of his pretentious gazes, tilting his chin up and all that. “Well, I was obviously taking the piss. I have  _ excellent  _ taste, in all domains.” Then his expression turns flirtatious and he leans towards me, so much that he has to rest his hands on my thighs not to fall on his face. His face is only a breath away. “And that includes men.”

He doesn’t close the distance between us, probably because he doesn’t want to turn this into a snogging session in case I want to continue talking about  _ feelings  _ with him, despite his flirting, but I do.

Close the distance I mean. 

I peck his lips, something light and quick, and then I say, “What about we go to my room? Those tiles are freezing cold.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he answers.

He pecks my lips too, and then he’s pushing himself up, his fingers applying pressure to my thighs before completely disappearing. Well, not really. Instead, they’re in front of my face as he offers me his hand to help me up.

I accept it and he pulls on my arm until I’m on my feet, and then he leads me to my room. To my bed.

I avoid looking at all the bags and cans on the floor. Instead I focus on Baz. Baz who hasn’t put his shirt back on. He even left it on the bathroom floor. It’s nice, I get to check him out, but I just hope he won’t get cold. It’s the summer, being shirtless should be fine for any normal person, but Baz isn’t exactly a  _ normal person,  _ being a vampire and all that.

He climbs on my bed.

Seeing him here causes a strange sensation in my chest. This room… It has been  _ my  _ place for months now -I never officially moved back in Baz’s rooms, even when I spent all of my time there. Baz seems out of place here. I’m not sure if I mean it in a good or bad way, but I kind of wish we were in his room instead.

But he’s not going to walk around the house shirtless, so I suppose we’re staying here. 

I don’t get on the bed with him. Instead, I stand next to the side he’s sitting on, still fidgeting with my shirt.

After all the nice things he said to me, it’d be unreasonable to think he’s going to find me disgusting because I’ve gained weight, right?

“Baz, can you come sit here, please,” I say, tapping the space right in front of me on the bed.

He doesn’t question it, and simply shifts to sit where I told him, on the edge of the bed, his knees spread apart. If he closed them just a little bit I’d feel them brush my thighs. 

And then he simply looks up at me. His eyes are in mine, but he doesn’t speak. He waits. 

I close my eyes not to see that too intense grey anymore, and I take my shirt off quickly, throwing it on the floor.

As the air in the room hits my skin, I feel exposed. 

I don’t give it any more thoughts and pull my pyjama bottoms down.

If not for my pants, I’d be completely starkers.

My body is in full display for Baz to see.

See all the imperfections and ugly parts.

I feel his hands, feather light, on my sides. It startles me but I don’t push him away. He’s already  _ seeing  _ it, there’s no point asking him not to put his hands on my body anymore. He wouldn’t need to feel it to know the fat is there when it’s right under his nose.

He trails his hands up and down, caressing me from a little under my armpits to my waistband, and back from my waistband to my armpits. Then I feel his lips on my sternum.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, Simon.”

He kisses me lower, his lips really on my stomach this time, and the air gets stuck in my throat.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. The most beautiful  _ person  _ I’ve ever seen.”

Another kiss, somewhere else on my stomach. With how he’s going, I think he’s tracing my moles. It makes me blush. I never understood why he loves them so much. They’re just stupid, tiny stains on my skin.

His hands are on my back now, while he keeps trailing his lips on my stomach.

I haven’t opened my eyes yet. I’m not sure I want to. There’s something so adoring about the way Baz is kissing and touching me, I want to get lost in the moment, to let myself enjoy it. 

Enjoy the almost religious way he’s touching me, as if my body were something sacred he intended to worship.

I, for one, could spend hours worshipping every single inch of his body. That’s what I usually prefer, in bed. When  _ he _ treats me like I treat him, I feel overwhelmed in a way that isn’t entirely good. 

So it’s not often that I let Baz do what he’s doing now, but I think tonight we both need it. 

I need to feel like my body is still something he finds beautiful and attractive. To know that he isn’t disgusted by how I look. To know that he still wants me, even with those extra pounds. 

And he needs to touch me. To look at me. I’ve been pushing him away for too long, and I know it.

“You’re so lovely,” he whispers against my skin. “As lovely as you’ve always been.”

His hands go back to my hips, and he pulls on them, forcing me down until I’m sitting on his lap.

Once again, the situation is usually reversed.

He presses his forehead against my shoulder as his hands slide to my thighs, touching them just as softly as he did my sides and back.

“I love how your body looks. I love it no matter what. I loved how your body looked when it was still too thin from all the food you lacked in the summer. I loved how your body looked like when you started filling up and seemed healthier. I love how your body looks like now. I love feeling my fingers dig in your flesh...” he says as he moves one of his hands to grab my hip tightly. “... and knowing that it will leave a mark. I love that my hands can’t completely close around the top or back of your thighs. It makes me want to carry you up and pin you to the wall just to feel them when I hold you. Or better, to feel them close around my waist. I love how soft your stomach feels under my lips. I love knowing that it’d feel just as soft under my fingers. It makes me want you to be the one flat on his back when we cuddle for once, just so that I could rest my head on it and caress it like you do mine.” He pauses long enough to kiss my shoulder. “I’m going to tell you a secret. It’s not something I’m saying to make you feel better about how you look, it’s something I’m saying because it’s the truth, just like everything I just said. I much prefer bodies that look like how yours currently look over bodies like mine, or muscled bodies. I prefer soft flesh under my touch than toned muscles. I find it hotter. And I find  _ you  _ particularly hot, I must say,” he adds with another kiss to my shoulder.

**…**

**Baz**

When I eventually look up at him, I see that his eyes are still close but that a single tear fell down his cheek. I don’t know when, but I know it must have been a good tear, so I don’t care. I cup his face with my hands and bring it down gently, enough to kiss his lips. He puts his arms around my neck, holding onto me, and I positively melt.

He pulls back, only to hug me, cheek pressed against cheek, with his lips close enough to my ear to whisper in it, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see, I’m being nice now I wrote a chapter that wasn’t a complete angsty disaster :)


	46. Chapter Forty Four

_I thought that moving in together would be beneficial for us and our relationship. I thought that living alone, without my family would bring us together. The opposite happened._

_So then I thought that maybe he still didn’t think I was serious about us or something similar because I knew that he believed I deserved better than him, so I thought a ring might bring us together._

**…**

_October 31st, 2016_

**Baz**

He doesn’t give me a smile when he walks in our flat.

We had a fight last night. Yet another fight. It was a pointless one, like all those we have. Probably because he didn’t put his clothes in the laundry basket so I didn’t know to put them in the washing machine, or because I didn’t clean my cup quickly enough so now the blood won’t go -since we live in London, I get pig blood from the butcher, it makes feeding easier. Whatever reason it was, it was a stupid one.

It’s always stupid reasons. 

It feels like Watford all over again. 

We fight about stupid things.

He looks at me like he can’t bear the sight of me sometimes. 

He goes to Bunce when I piss him off too much.

But at the same time it’s not like Watford at all.

We have sex. A lot. Which is definitely an improvement from our school days. 

Most mornings, he looks at me with sleepy eyes and leans in to kiss me, morning breath and all, whispering “Hello, babe” against my lips. 

I love drinking his blood, and he loves it too, but I had to draw a limit. Not more than three times a month, because I don’t want to become addicted to human blood and because it could be very trying on his body if I drank his blood too often. So, on the days when I don’t feed off of him he heats up my blood on the stove -there are clogs in the blood when I use a spell, it’s gross- and brings it to me in a cup he bought, that he drew silly fangs and wrote “vampire juice” on because he’s annoying like that.

So really, living together feels like being back at school, but not at all at the same time.

Another reason why it’s different is, of course, the fact that him blowing things up because I riled him up too much isn’t a possibility anymore. Which actually might be why I didn’t get a smile, and not our fight.

It’s Halloween today. One year ago, he lost his magic. 

This is going to be a tough day for him, and unfortunately, it’s a day I won’t get to spend with him. He warned me days ago that he would be spending the day with Bunce, which I’m not opposed to because he can hang out with his friend, but which is still something that hurts me. I wish he let me be here for him, today of all days. 

However, his absence might be beneficial. I have plans that I can’t bring to life if he’s in the flat. 

I hear the shower turn on.

He showers in the mornings, now, after his jog. 

Yes, he’s taken up jogging. After he told me he didn’t like his appearance, I helped him work on losing weight in a healthy way. He’s already dropped a few pounds, and it makes him more confident. Besides, I think he likes going for a run because it gives him a reason to be out of the flat, alone. He has time for himself, to think, or on the contrary, to stop thinking. It’s good for him. 

I decide it’s time I get going -I have a lot on my plate- so I walk to the bathroom and knock on the door. 

“Simon!” I say, loudly enough for him to hear me. “I’m going to run errands, do you need anything from the shop?”

He turns the shower off to answer. “Er, can you get me shampoo? I’m running out of it. And no fancy stuff, Basilton! Regular shampoo!”

“Sure, love,” I say with a chuckle. “See you tonight, then?”

“See you tonight.”

**…**

The drive to my parents’ house has never been this long.

No, actually, it has. The first time I came back home to Simon after I went back to school.

But that’s irrelevant.

I feel like I’ve been driving forever, stressing about a million things.

I say hello to Daphne and the kids as quickly as I can, and then I head to my father’s office. I love the little ones, but it’s him I came to see and I don’t have forever.

“Baz?” he says, surprised, when I enter his office. He must have thought it was Daphne.

“Dad, there’s something I need to ask you.”

I walk up to his desk, and stand there in front of him. It’s strange, standing while he’s sitting. It reminds me of when he told me off, looking at me from this same chair with disappointment in his eyes.

“And you came all the way here to do so?”

He puts down his pen to sit back in his chair.

“Yes.”

“Well, pray tell. What is it?”

That’s the delicate part. It would mean the world to me if he accepted, but I would understand if he didn’t.

“Do you think that you could give me my mother’s engagement ring?”

His eyebrows shoot up. 

“Your mother’s engagement ring?” he repeats. He sounds like the words are foreign to him, like he doesn’t understand them. “Why on earth would you want your mother’s engagement ring?”

I look away. “I want to propose to Simon, and it would mean a lot to me if I could do it with her ring. It’s fine if you don’t want to give it to me though, I’ll just go to a jewelry shop.”

His eyes go wide and he leans in, resting his hands flat on his desk. 

“You want to _propose_?” he says, his voice going up.

Is he scolding me for wanting to marry my boyfriend?

“Yes. We’ve been together for over a year now, and I know that I want him in my future, so, why not?”

Snow may not be used to mage’s customs, but this scenario is perfectly reasonable in our world, which is why my father’s apparent shock bothers me. I thought he liked Simon. I thought he was happy for us.

“I…” my father starts, before stopping. “Crowley, please give me a little heads up before dropping such a bomb on me next time, son.”

“Well, I do hope there won’t be a next time,” I joke. “I don’t intend on proposing to someone else.”

I _couldn’t_ propose to someone else. Simon is the one for me. I know it. I’ve always known it.

Simon Snow has been the sun I spun around since the first time I dove in the blue of his eyes. 

“Yes, of course,” my father says as he stands from his chair. Is he going to give me the ring? “Come with me, then.”

Merlin, he’s going to give me the ring. I’m going to be able to propose with my mother’s ring.

The closer we get to my mother’s office, the more emotions overwhelm me. 

I’m going to _propose_.

And I’m going to do so with my _mother’s_ ring.

My father takes the key for where it’s hidden and unlocks the door. The room smells old and is filled with dust.

The last time I was here, I found out who Simon’s mother was.

It feels like it was a century ago that his mother Visited him -me- and we investigated to discover her identity.

Time flies.

I walk in behind my father, but wait near the door as he goes and opens a big wardrobe pushed against the wall on the right side of the room. He turns to me before starting to look through it, though.

“Come here,” he says, gesturing to me exactly what he’s saying.

I obey, even though I don’t understand why he’d need me to come. 

I stop when my eyes fall on what’s inside the wardrobe.

A dress. 

A _wedding_ dress.

I didn’t think she had kept it after her wedding, and even if I did, I would have assumed my father got rid of it after her death. But he didn’t.

He’s looking at it with this pained, nostalgic look he always has in his eyes when he talks about my mother -which is really not often.

He runs his fingers along the skirt of the dress carefully. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

I nod. “It is.”

I already found it beautiful in the pictures, but it’s nothing compared to how it looks in real life. The fabric seems like its quality is excellent and there are so many details… it must have cost a fortune. 

“It was so much more on her. She was radiant that day. She was stunning every day, of course, but on our wedding day… I couldn’t believe she was real. She looked like an angel. When I saw her at her father’s arm I was… She took my breath away. Truly. I couldn’t breathe during her whole walk to the altar. There was something about seeing the woman I wanted to devote my life to in that splendid dress, walking up to me to make me her own for what we both thought would be forever… It’s indescribable. Of course I know there won’t be a beautiful white gown at your wedding, but I hope you will get to experience that.”

There’s sadness in his voice as he says all of that, but he has a tender smile on his face.

Sometimes, I forget that my father loved my mother. With Fiona, it’s impossible to forget, she keeps mentioning her, but my father… well, with Daphne, and the kids, he moved on. He’s so happy with her, it’s hard remembering that he once loved my mother so very deeply. That _she_ was his person. His forever. That he envisioned his future with her.

How many times have I wondered how different my life would have been if my mother hadn’t died and my parents had raised me. My father must have imagined this scenario a million times too

“I hope so too,” I answer.

My father looks at the dress fondly for a little longer, before reaching for a small, blue jewelry box. He opens it, and I see two rings in it. Her engagement and wedding rings, I assume. 

He only takes one of them out of the box. A simple band of white gold. 

I open my hand and present it to my father. He puts the ring down on my palm and I close my fingers around it. “Thank you,” I say under my breath.

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he closes the box and puts it back where it was. Then, he turns to me and put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. “You’re welcome. Make good use of it.”

“I will.”

I carefully put the ring in the inner pocket of my jacket, over my heart. It’s beating fast at the thought of putting that ring around Simon’s finger. 

“Tell me, have you already thought about what you will do about your names? The two of you have quite a lot of them.”

That’s true. I already have two. Simon has two too, technically, but he still goes by Snow. It was obvious that he wouldn’t want to be associated with the Mage by taking his name, but I thought he might decide to go by his mother’s name. However, he hasn’t even tried to get in touch with the Salisburys, even though I told him many times I could help him with that. Maybe he simply isn’t ready to connect with a family he has spent 18 years ignoring the existence of. 

“We haven’t thought about it yet. I suppose that’s something we’ll discuss some time soon, though. But as we’re on this topic ; how did Mother and you decide that her name would be Grimm-Pitch? Fiona told me many times that she was very attached to the Grimm part of her name, so why not simply go with that?”

I could still have had Pitch as my name even if it wasn’t my mother’s name anymore, I suppose. The Families wouldn’t have said anything about me not having the same name as my parents if it meant the name in question contained Pitch. 

“The Families would have thrown a tantrum. Imagine the scandal if the Pitch heiress wasn’t even called Pitch anymore. They didn’t even want her to take my name at all at first, but she told them that if they remained being so insistent she only kept Pitch, she would only take Grimm. It scared them enough that they stopped giving their opinion about it. She chose Grimm-Pitch because as my wife, she wanted to have my name, but she also didn’t want to abandon her name. It was so important for her, being a Pitch, which is I suppose a sentiment you understand and share.”

I hum, nodding.

It’s so strange hearing my father talk so freely about my mother. I think it’s the most he ever said about her in one go. 

I try to get him to talk more. It’s so rare, I can’t miss an occasion to hear about her. It’s so different from hearing about her from Fiona.

When my aunt talks about her sister, it’s either in a casual way ; “You mother liked this”, “Your mother often said that”, or seriously ; “Your mother was like this”, “Your mother believed that”, but it’s always with admiration in her eyes. When my father talks about her, it’s with love. So much love. It seems almost cruel, that he’d still have that much love for her after so long. 

“How was it, proposing to her?” I ask. “Were you anxious?”

He huffs out a laugh.

“Aleister Crowley, of course I was. She was _Natasha Pitch._ She was intelligent, headstrong, powerful, ambitious, beautiful. She was the one every man wanted. I was so afraid she’d change her mind about me and find someone more worthy of her. I had this voice in the back of my head that kept telling me she was going to say no up until she said yes. I was so stressed when I asked her that I dropped the ring because my hands were trembling too much. She wasn’t too emotional not to have a laugh at me for it, unfortunately.”

A smile grows on my face, mirroring my father’s.

I can’t wait to have memories like that to tell the children I may have in the future. 

**…**

“Call me when you’re engaged.”

That’s the last thing my father said to me before I left the Manor and it left me grinning the whole way home. 

I’m going to be engaged to the love of my life. 

**…**

Who knew cooking was that fucking hard. I should have just ordered from some fancy restaurant, honestly.

I’m facetiming Niall as I go because he _can_ cook and won’t make fun of me for how useless I am in a kitchen, contrary to Dev who sometimes appears on screen to talk shit about me and then leaves. The fucker could help too, he cooks better than Niall, but apparently my impending _proposal_ isn’t enough to make him be nice to me. It’s truly a shame. 

In the end, though, the food isn’t burnt, and it even looks decent on the plates.

I cast a spell on it to keep it warm until we eat it, because I don’t know if Simon will be back soon, and I haven’t decided if I’m going to propose before or after dinner. After would make more sense, we could take things right to the bedroom, that would be quite convenient, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay in front of him without blurting out the question. 

I say goodbye to Niall, who asks me to visit tomorrow to tell him and Dev how it went, and then I’m on my way to the bedroom to change into better clothes. I’m not going to put on a suit, it’s not Simon’s favourite kind of clothes to see me wear. Instead, I choose a pair of black jeans that I know makes my arse look good, and a purple shirt, Simon’s favourite. I throw in some jewelry because I know he likes that, and I even wear the silly plastic ring he got me in one of those toy vending machines on my pinky. I fix my hair but don’t tie it or put any product in it, and spray myself with my “stupid posh perfume”, as he likes to call it.

As stupid as he may say it is, he is very discontent when he buries his face in the crook of my neck and can’t smell it. 

I take my mother’s ring and slip it inside my pocket, making sure that you can’t see the trace of it through my jeans, and then I’m ready. I just have to wait for Simon to get home.

**…**

**Simon**

When I walk through the door, I immediately feel this stifling wave of magic hitting me. It’s always like that here. Baz is using magic constantly, it never leaves the air. It feels suffocating for me, but I can’t ask of him not to use his magic just because I don’t have it anymore, though I wish he had made an effort to use it a bit less _today_.

Penny had the decency not to cast any spell the whole day, which I’m very grateful for. It’s been a year since I lost my magic, and it doesn’t really get easier living without it. I still have this feeling of emptiness deep in my core that seems to grow more and more whenever Baz casts a spell around me. It makes me sick.

I kick my shoes off in a way that’ll make him roll his eyes before setting them nicely together, and hang my coat before heading to the living room.

And I freeze.

He’s set the table, with a tablecloth, and those nice porcelain plates we took from his parents’ place, and that fancy cutlery that we also took from his parents’ place, and two different glasses for each of us, and _candles._

He’s standing next to the table -he always hears me arrive- giving me a shy smile.

“I thought we could have a nice dinner,” he explains. “Since today must have been difficult for you.”

It has been.

I smile at his thoughtfulness. “That’s very kind of you.”

He walks to one of the chairs and pulls it, bowing ridiculously “Gentleman, if you may,” he says, forcing his accent a little to make me laugh. 

**…**

**Baz**

I’m completely panicking for the whole meal. I don’t even know how I manage to serve the plates, let alone eat, _and_ to make conversation. 

Fuck, I didn’t think it’d be this stressful. I was doing fine until I was in front of Simon.

He swallows the rest of his drink -I popped a bottle of champagne for the occasion, it’s the only kind of alcohol he doesn’t think tastes disgusting- and I feel anticipating building up more as I look at the movements of his throat than I have up until now.

I’m going to do it.

We’ve eaten everything, the sky is dark outside already, I can’t stall any longer or I won’t do it.

He stretches, and yawns. “That was really lovely Baz, but I’d like to go to bed now if you don’t mind,” he says afterwards, looking at me. He does look tired.

I have to make this quick then. Fucking Merlin.

“Actually,” I say as he stands from his chair. “There’s something I wanted to tell you.”

I also stand, walking up to him. He gives me a puzzled look.

“What is it?”

**…**

**Simon**

He looks so uncomfortable.

Is this when he breaks up with me?

Maybe the fancy dinner was not to let me down too harshly…

“Simon,” he says, and I can tell he’s trying hard not to fidget. “I wanted to do this properly but the words have been on the tip of my tongue for the entire evening and I’m not sure I can hold them back any longer.”

He fumbles for something in his pocket, making me frown more. My heart is beating fast in my chest.

I don’t understand what’s happening.

Except I do, when I see _what_ he took out of his pocket.

I feel a lump in my throat when he gets down on one knee, in a position that really doesn’t leave any doubt when it comes to what he’s going to say when he opens his mouth.

“Will you marry me?”

**…**

**Baz**

He has a stunned look on his face as I present the ring to him. I can hear his heart pounding.

“Baz… I… _no._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Your mom's ring in your pocket  
> My picture in your wallet  
> Your heart was glass, I dropped it  
> Champagne problems”  
> — champagne problems, Taylor Swift
> 
> I blame this entirely on this song, this is not my fault, if evermore hadn’t come out and I hadn't started obsessively listening to this song every day of my life I wouldn’t have done this


	47. Chapter Forty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “One for the money, two for the show  
> I never was ready so I watch you go  
> Sometimes you just don't know the answer  
> 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you  
> "She would've made such a lovely bride  
> What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said”  
> — champagne problems, Taylor Swift
> 
> I’m going to continue to randomly quote songs (very likely Taylor Swift songs), just bear with me, I guess

**Baz**

No.

No, no, no.

The word echoes in my head, cutting like a knife.

No.

He said no.

I proposed and he said _no._

**…**

**Simon**

His face falls and his fingers tremble around the ring. It makes my heart clench.

“What?” he asks, his voice full of disbelief.

He doesn’t even try to stand back up. He simply let his knee fall, holding himself up on both of them now. When he clasps his hands together to keep himself from dropping the ring, he looks like he’s praying.

Begging.

“I won’t marry you, Baz,” I say, feeling frustration grow inside me.

I can’t believe he _proposed_ to me. I can’t believe he thought this was a good idea.

Does he not see that our relationship is falling apart -if it has ever been stable enough to be able to fall apart?

Does he not realize that we’ve been walking on a tightrope for months, threatening to fall off whenever we make a step towards one another?

“Why?” he asks, his voice feeble.

It sounds naive, like a child asking questions that cannot be answered 

“Because it’s not working,” I tell him, forcing myself to look at him even though all I want is to look away.

The pain on his face hurts me, but it also fuels my annoyance.

Many things Baz does fuel my annoyance, even if I have this voice in the back of my head telling me that I should be more patient, that I love him, and that that’s enough.

Maybe it’s not.

Enough, I mean.

I thought love was all you needed for a relationship to work, but Baz loves me, I know that, I adore him with my whole heart, and our couple is still a gigantic mess.

I _can_ love Baz. I _do_ love Baz. But I don’t _know_ how to love Baz properly. I don’t know how to romance him like he deserves without fucking up, I don’t know how to not get fed up with him for things he has nothing to do with, I don’t know how to not push him away because of the shit I have going on in my own head, I don’t know to tell him things instead of assuming he’ll magically understand, I don’t know how to get _him_ to tell _me_ things instead of assuming I’ll magically understand.

I don’t know how to make my love _enough._

He falls down a bit more, sitting on his heels.

It’s like every time I say something, he weakens more and more.

“It’s not that bad,” he answers, and I can tell he doesn’t believe it either.

It’s too strange standing there in front of him, looking down at him, so I get down too, sitting with my legs crossed in front of him.

We’re like two children on a playground, except for the tears in his eyes, the lump in my throat, and the lack of joy in the air.

“It is, Baz. We… We’re always fighting. Yes, it’s insignificant fights and we make up quickly, but we still do. I… When was the last time we went an entire week without yelling at each other at least once? I can’t even remember.” The realization makes my shoulders drop. I _truly_ can’t remember the last time Baz and I spent 7 full days without a fight. 

“We can fix that. The fights. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Because you think _I_ want to?” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “We have to accept it. We _can’t_ fix this. Our relationship was built on something too fragile, that shattered too soon. I feel like all we’ve done since we got together is trying to put the pieces back together but it has _obviously_ failed. I love you Baz, I really do, but I… I think it’s not enough. We’re not good together.”

“Yes we are,” he says stubbornly, shaking his head.

I reach out to touch his knee. He slaps my hand away.

“We’re not. We dove head first into this relationship and I think… It was a mistake. We went from hating each other to dating in what? Two weeks? It was silly to think this could work. We didn’t take the time to truly get to know each other…”

“I know you. I know every fucking thing about you, Simon Snow.”

The way his voice quivers feels like a stab in the heart.

“That’s not what I mean. I… I have two versions of you in my head. The Baz from Watford who made my life hell and threw insults at me all the time, and the Baz who calls me sweet names and lets me sleep in his arms. It’s… There was no smooth transition between the two, it was quick and brutal, and because of that, sometimes I get confused. You say something mean to me and I feel like we’re 15 again and you hate me. I can’t associate the Baz who hurts me to the feelings I have for you. It’s not good. You’re one person ; you’re the boy who made me cry and go off so many times but you’re also the boy I love. I _should_ see you as one person but I can’t. And I think that if we had taken the time to tame one another instead of rushing into a relationship I would have slowly learnt to know you, all the different facets of who you are, and I would have been able to see them as that. Different facets. Not different people. But I can’t. And you… You have created this idealized version of me that I’ll never live up to but that you try to make me live up to in your head by twisting the things I do to fit your narrative and keeping a blind eye on the things you _can’t_ twist. You keep forgiving me for hurting you or pretending I didn’t even hurt you in the first place because you love me so much that you think you have to accept all the shit I throw at you not to lose me, and that’s not right, Baz. It’s not good for you. So _no_ we’re not good for each other. This relationship, as it is now, isn’t good for any of us, but there’s no way we can fix it if we don’t fix ourselves first but we can’t fix ourselves because all we do is use the other as a distraction from all of our problems.”

Baz isn’t the only one with a trembling voice and tears in his eyes anymore. The more I talk, the more it hits me that our couple is _really_ much more of a splendid disaster than I thought. It breaks my heart.

Baz wipes the one tear that escaped the barrier of his eyes. “Snow… What exactly are you trying to say?”

**…**

**Baz**

Silence.

A heavy, drawn out silence.

We both _know_ what he’s trying to say.

It fucking breaks me to think about it.

I tried so bloody hard to keep him. Tried so bloody to be as good to him and as conciliatory as I could so that he wouldn’t want to leave me. 

But it wasn’t enough.

My whole world crumbles to pieces when he opens his mouth.

**…**

**Simon**

“I think we should break up.”

He shakes his head desperately, his hair flying a little around him. “No. No, you can’t do that, Snow you can’t leave me,” he says as he practically throws himself at me, his hands on my shoulder. “I need you, you can’t give up on me.”

His tears are freely flowing down his cheeks now, and his voice is wet. He looks miserable. 

I resist the urge to wrap my arms around him and tell him to forget it. I _can’t_ do that anymore. That’s the whole point. We have to stop doing that. Taking the other in our arms and pretending whatever is hurting him isn’t real, that it will stop hurting him. Letting ourselves be held by the other and pretending that the bad things are gone, that they won’t come back to haunt us. 

So I don’t hug him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking at the floor.

I can’t bear to look at him. Can’t bear to see the pain I’m inflincting him on top of hearing it from his discreet sniffling and feel it from his grip on my shoulders. 

I put my hands on his wrists gently to push them away.

It burns to feel his skin against mine. 

I stand back up, and he looks at me from where he is sitting on the floor, this tortured look on his face.

I always thought that Baz looked like a painting when he cried. Even with tears streaming down his face, he’s breathtaking. 

As I step back, I can’t believe I’m walking away from a man like that.

But it’s for the best.

I know that Baz isn’t okay -has he ever been? He needs to heal, and he can’t do that with me. He can’t deal with his own issues if he’s constantly focusing on mine. 

I want him to focus on _himself_.

So many decisions he’s taken since we got together were because of me.

We bought this flat because I prefered it, even if I know that it’s not the flat he would have gone with -though he didn’t tell me that.

He delayed his starting uni because he wanted to spend a year with me here in London, even if he was excited about going to Oxford. 

It has to stop.

He can’t live for _me._

“Simon, don’t leave me,” he pleads again, his voice breaking as I keep making the distance between us bigger and bigger.

“I have to. Someday you’ll thank me. I want you to live your life, Baz.”

He must be tired of looking up at me because he stands up, slowly, as if every movement hurt. As if his body was too heavy to carry.

“I can’t do that if you’re not in it.”

“I could still be in your life,” I suggest, trying to bring a glimmer of hope to this situation. “We could be friends.”

He snorts, and he manages to make it sound cruel even with his tear streaked cheeks and running nose. 

“Friends? You just fucking broke up with me and you want to be _friends_? Are you kidding me?”

His voice is trembling now, but not with sadness. With anger.

“Baz…”

“Shut up. There’s nothing more to say,” he snaps, his voice biting, looking at me with his grey eyes cold behind the tears.

And then, just like that, he is turning around, rushing to our… to _the_ bedroom. 

I follow him. 

“Baz, what are you doing?”

“Getting the fuck out of here,” he answers, not looking at me.

He take this big bag he uses when he goes to the gym with Dev, then walks to the wardrobe.

“Baz, be reasonable, you don’t have to leave…”

“I damn well do.” 

He starts furiously grabbing his clothes, throwing them in the bag urgently.

Baz hates when his clothes are a mess. They get wrinkled, which irritates him more than anything. 

“This is _your_ flat too, you can stay. There are two rooms.”

Please stay.

I may not think it’s wise to remain boyfriends, but that doesn’t mean I want him _gone_. 

“You’ve been my roommate for seven fucking years. That’s not something I want to experience ever again.”

He grabs the few of his belongings that are on his - _the_ \- bedside table and walks to the bathroom.

He puts all of his products in the bag. The shower looks empty without all of those. 

“Baz…”

“I told you to shut the fuck up, Snow! Don’t you think you’ve said enough?” he shouts, glaring at me over his shoulders, his eyes full of fire. “I swear to Merlin if you open your mouth again I’ll spell you mute.”

He’s so mad right now, he might actually do it.

So I shut up, and watch this boy I love so much pack up his stuff, eyes full of tears that I caused, to leave me. 

The last things he puts in the bag are those stupid stuffed animal I got him for Christmas. He puts them down more carefully than he did the rest of his clothes, and make sure they’re together before he closes the bag. He walks to the entrance, puts on his shoes and coat, and throws the bag on his shoulders.

I’m seeing all of this, but it’s like I’m seeing it in a movie. It’s just happening in front of my eyes, and there’s nothing I can do to change or stop it.

I expect him to glare at me over his shoulder one last time before slamming the door.

Instead, he walks towards me.

Then, I expect a slap.

Baz never hit me, not since we’re a couple. But I guess we’re _not_ a couple anymore. 

To be honest, I wouldn’t fight back if he slapped me. I deserve it. 

But that’s not what he does.

He grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me close, crashing his lips against mine.

I don’t even think, my mouth opens on its own accord, letting Baz’s tongue slip inside it. 

The kiss tastes of salt and anger, but it’s as intense as his kisses have always been.

“To remember me by,” he says when he pushes me away. “You can keep the flat, _love_.”

The way he spits the word out, like an insult, is the last straw for me.

I break down crying the moment he’s out of the door.

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t fucking know what to do.

At first I thought I’d crash at Fiona’s, but she’s away somewhere in Eastern Europe, and I gave her back the keys to her flat when I moved in with… When I bought mine.

I can’t drive to my parents’ right now. There’s no way on earth I could drive all the way to Hampshire in the state I’m in. I’d crash my car before even leaving London.

It’s impossible getting a room anywhere that late into the night, except in places where I’d most likely end up being robbed.

The only option I have is…

Fuck, I wish I didn’t have to bother them. They must be so damn tired of me.

**…**

**Niall**

I glance at Dev when I hear knocking on the door. 

Sometimes the neighbours come to ask for something, but not at 11 pm.

“I’m going,” he tells me as he pats my thigh before he stands up.

I mute the television, the show isn’t interesting anyway, and watch him walk to the door. He opens it, and…

“Baz?” he says, surprised.

I practically jump from the couch.

Baz was supposed to propose to Snow tonight. He has no business being here. He should be having sex with his fiancé or something, _not_ knocking at our door.

Dev lets Baz inside the flat.

He looks miserable. 

His eyes are bloodshot and…

And he has a bag on his shoulder.

“Baz, what is it?” Dev asks as he closes the door.

Hurt flashes in Baz’s eyes.

Merlin, did Snow say no?

 _Why_ would he say no? They moved in together two months ago, why would he live with Baz if he wasn’t serious enough about their relationship for marriage?

“I wondered if I could sleep in the spare room for the night, if you don’t mind.”

We can’t really _mind._ That flat belongs to Baz, technically. It’s one of the many properties the Pitches own. He lets us live in it because we’d never be able to afford to live in London _and_ go to uni otherwise.

“Why would you need to sleep in the spare room?” I ask, because even though he technically answered Dev’s question, he didn’t give us the answer we actually wanted to hear and we all know it. 

He bores his eyes into mine before saying slowly, giving weight to each word.

“Because he broke up with me.”

**…**

**Baz**

“Fuck,” Dev says under his breath as Niall’s eyes go wide.

He closes the distance between us and pulls me into a tight hug.

“Merlin Baz, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice muffled by my coat.

I push him away as gently as I can. 

I don’t want to be coddled right now. I don’t want their pity. I want them to let me stay in the bloody spare room and continue their evening the way they intended, as if I wasn’t even there.

I won’t be able to stop crying if Niall starts asking how I feel and stroking my back. 

“Can I stay in the spare room or not?”

“Yes, of course, but Baz…”

“No,” I say, raising my hand to stop him. “Please. I don’t want to talk. Just go back to doing whatever you were doing and pretend I’m not here.”

It’s not like my presence usually bothers them. Dev is shameless, and Niall doesn’t hate it half as much as he pretends.

I see that Niall wants to argue, but he, thankfully, keeps his mouth shut. 

Dev walks up to him and puts his hand on the small of his back, leaning in to whisper “Leave him be.” in his ear. 

I hear it, of course. Vampire.

I’m grateful for his intervention. I love Niall, but he can be so stifling at times. 

They head to the sofa, and I disappeared in the kitchen. I know Dev has a bottle or two here. I could use alcohol right now. I’ll have to go to the shop tomorrow to buy whatever I end up drinking tonight to repay them, though. Not that they would ask me to repay them.

Niall must hear me fumble through their cabinets and retrieve a bottle, because he tuts when I leave the kitchen, but I ignore him. I’m a big boy, I can get drunk if I want. 

I close the door and open the bottle.

**…**

**Simon**

“Pe… Penny?”

“Simon? What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice tinted with worry.

“I know that it’s late,” I say, controlling my breathing not to start sobbing again. It would only make her more worried. “But do you think you could come to my place? I… I need you here.” 

Apparently I can’t control my breathing that well. A sob escapes my lips at the end of my sentence.

Even over the phone, I can hear her stand from her bed. It creaks loudly.

“I’m coming. Just let me put clothes on and I’m on my way. I’ll be here as soon as I can, alright?”

I nod even if she can’t see me, my heart feeling a little less heavy. Penny is going to come. I won’t be _alone_. 

“But Si… What happened?”

I knew she would ask that. It doesn’t make answering it any easier.

I take a deep breath.

“Baz and I… we… I… It’s over.”

**…**

_I may not have known what the starting point was,_ _but if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that this was the end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... or not
> 
> it’s the end of this part, though ^^  
> the next part will be the last (it’s strange to say it) and the title will be A Study in Time


End file.
